


Captain Of His Soul

by pastmydancingdays



Series: Captain Of His Soul [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Love, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 149,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastmydancingdays/pseuds/pastmydancingdays
Summary: Embarking upon the Five-Year mission with the Starfleet flagship, and the best and the brightest aboard her, it seems that Jim Kirk has it all. With Spock and Bones beside him, his physical recovery complete, he feels ready to take on the universe. But when Command orders the Enterprise into a diplomatic mission involving an unstable, warring planet, somebody is bound to get hurt. Adept at hiding both his demons and his affections, Jim is ready to do whatever it takes to be the Captain Pike wanted him to be, whether that involves sacrificing his happiness, or even his life.Peace is not a universal objective.





	1. Amid A Crowd Of Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all my new readers, and welcome back to those of you who've followed my works before! I'm really excited to share this latest story with you guys, which is dedicated to those who've been consistently supportive of me over the last few years (@silfreya and @neonraate especially). I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

The observation deck was Jim’s favourite place on the Enterprise.

He liked to press himself against the glass, hands braced as if he could melt right through it, and look out at the millions of tiny pinpricks of light that held the potential for life. Jim loved the stars. He had since he was a child in the most desperate of situations, head tilted towards the sky that held more possibilities than his young mind could imagine. The stars reminded him of how lucky he was to be the youngest Starship Captain ever, to be respected and cared for in a way that he had never before experienced. Jim loved the stars. He loved Spock too. But Spock was as the stars were to him as a child; beautiful, awe-inspiring, and completely untouchable.

Jim pressed his forehead harder against the cool glass before him, and shut his eyes, blocking out the meagre light he had allowed himself. He only had himself to blame, really. Maybe this was retribution for the lifestyle he’d had before, and the - admittedly exaggerated - number of people he’d had casual relationships with. Though he had always made his intentions clear from the start, he was sure a few of them would have preferred to be with him for more than a night or two, and perhaps this was punishment for his promiscuity. Cruel, yet fitting. He felt like his heart might burst out of his chest every time he saw Spock, hammering against his ribcage like a the beat of a military snare drum, the pulsing of blood so loud in his ears that he was sure Spock would be able to hear it. He found himself watching him on the Bridge more and more, shivering in delight as that gorgeous ass presented itself when Spock bent over the scanner, as those long, dextrous fingers danced across the readouts on his station. Someone was going to notice soon.

A year ago, when he had woken to the gentle curve of lips and his name spoken with rich warmth, Jim had welcomed his second chance with affectionate gratitude. Poor Bones had been pushed to the wayside as his attention had fallen solely on Spock, soft eyes drinking in the subtle laxness that relief had brought to his body. He hadn’t yet realised that love had blossomed in his chest, but he had certainly recognised the attraction curling in his belly, sharper, and more potent than any he had ever felt. Spock had always made his heart flip, with those gorgeous pointed ears, and deep, dark eyes, but as time went on, that flip had become a squeeze, intensifying over time until Jim could no longer deny it – he was in love, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The doors hissed open behind him, and he pulled his hands away from the glass as if it had burned him, looking almost guiltily back over his shoulder to see who was there. Pleasure shot through him as Spock strolled towards the glass, towards _him,_ with his hands linked behind his back.

‘Good evening, Captain.’

That warm, deep voice made Jim shiver, and he tensed his muscles before it could become too obvious, directing a genuine smile his way.

‘It’s _Jim,_ Spock. Please.’

‘Very well,’ Spock replied, coming to stand so close beside him that Jim could feel the displacement of air between them. ‘Good evening, Jim.’

Jim huffed in amusement, turning to look at him, even as Spock kept his eyes on the stars.

‘That’s better,’ he grinned, unable to tear his gaze away from the ethereal glow of his skin in the starlight. ‘Were you looking for me, or did you just want to take a look outside?’

‘Both. I went first to your quarters, but upon finding you absent, surmised that this was your most likely location.’

Transfixed by the soft, pale curves of his nose and lips, Jim took a second to process what he’d said.

‘You know me well,’ he said softly, unable to stop a soppy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ‘So, any particular reason you wanted to see me?’

He faltered.

‘Not… not that you need one, of course, ’cause I’m always happy to see you-’

‘I wished to see if you would like to play a game of chess in my quarters,’ Spock gently interrupted, his attention no longer on the stars. ‘Unless you would rather remain here?’

Jim shook his head quickly, eager to be with him.

‘I’d take chess with you over this any day,’ he admitted, flushing a little.

Spock raised an eyebrow, but his expression wasn’t unkind. Tilting his head to signal for Jim to follow, he led him from the observation deck, falling back into place by his side as soon as the corridor became wide enough.

‘I must admit, I was not certain that you would be awake at this hour.’

‘Ah, you know me, Spock,’ Jim replied, hyperaware of their proximity as he shifted to avoid a passing crewman. ‘Sleep and I aren’t exactly best buds.’

The veiled look of concern cast towards him was enough to make his pulse flutter, his clammy hands finding and discreetly wiping against his uniform trousers.

‘Perhaps you should visit Doctor McCoy,’ Spock suggested.

Jim shook his head, shuddering. Much as he loved Bones, he knew that the second he revealed his insomnia – not to mention the nightmares – he’d be strapped down and hypoed up faster than he could cry out for help.

‘No, thanks. I’m already a regular human pincushion for him; he doesn’t need another excuse to stab me.’

Spock’s eyebrow was quirked again; Jim worried that one day it would get stuck that way, considering the frequency of that particular expression. He didn’t reply, and Jim didn’t push, comfortable enough in the silence between them. The quiet gave his mind a chance to wander, as it so often did, to what it would be like to be with Spock. It was a dangerous addiction, but no matter how much it hurt, Jim couldn’t help imagining an eternity with him, like the one cut short between Selek and his Jim. That meld on Delta Vega had ruined him. Jim knew quite intimately the depth of love of which Spock could be capable, and to think of that being focused on anybody else but him was devastating. In the aftermath of his resurrection, Jim knew that Spock and Uhura had broken up, but only because Uhura had drunkenly told him so at the party they’d thrown to celebrate his recovery. That had left him both elated and hurt; he’d thought that he and Spock were good enough friends for him to deserve that kind of information. Now, he and Uhura were back to spending lots of time together, and Jim didn’t know what to think. If they were back together, Spock would hardly tell him, and he didn’t want to ask. He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

‘After you, Captain.’

Spock’s voice pulled Jim back to the present, jerking him from his ill-advised daydreaming. Flushing, he stepped past Spock into the sparse, orderly quarters, feeling a wave of heat engulf him on entry. It was comforting, despite the fact that he was pretty sure he was already sweating, and when Spock offered to turn it down, he shook his head.

‘I’m fine, don’t worry. I like it.’

‘You are not uncomfortable?’ Spock asked, gesturing for Jim to sit in a chair he had pulled out for him.

‘No,’ Jim smiled. ‘It’s kind of like sitting in the sun.’

Spock sat across from him, placing the chessboard carefully down on the table. His mother had given it to him, Jim knew, which made the smooth, hand-crafted glass all the more precious.

‘It’s a beautiful set, isn’t it?’ he asked rhetorically, wincing as Spock’s eyes flashed with something like grief. ‘Sorry, Spock, I didn’t-’

He let his voice die when Spock shook his head, holding his breath as Spock’s gaze dipped, then rose to meet his, a vulnerability within that made Jim wonder how on Terra anyone could think that he didn’t have emotions.

‘I am not upset with you. It _is_ aesthetically pleasing, and I am grateful for its continued presence.’

He didn’t say what they were both thinking – that he had lost so much, that this little piece of his mother was one of the few things he had left to commemorate her – but he didn’t need to. Jim could read it all in his closed-off expression, and his hands ached to reach out and hold him, though he wasn’t sure how Spock would react. The only person he really allowed regularly to touch him was Uhura, and Jim could never stop a twinge of jealousy rising in him every time he saw it. So instead, he offered up a shaky smile, gesturing to the board.

‘White or black?’

‘On the last occasion, you took black,’ Spock replied, turning the side with the white pieces towards him. ‘Therefore, it is my turn to do so. After you, Captain.’

Jim studied the board for barely a second before moving a pawn, watching Spock’s eyes narrow with amusement. Though Spock would never admit it, Jim knew that his chaotic style of play frustrated him, his analyses and algorithms ceasing to make sense when confronted with Jim as an opponent.

‘After _you,_ Mister Spock.’

Their game was, as usual, long and competitive, both almost equally matched in their ability. A little crease appeared in Spock’s forehead, deepening as they played, and Jim couldn’t help but stare adoringly, his heart thudding in his chest. Long eyelashes dusted Spock’s cheeks when he dropped his gaze to the pieces, hiding deep brown eyes from Jim. Soft pink lips were parted as he considered his next move, and his nose was scrunched ever so slightly – a rather lovely nose, Jim thought. Five years ago, if anyone had told him that he’d be waxing poetic about anyone’s _nose,_ he’d have told them they were crazy, but that’s what Spock did to him. He was a lovesick fool, and he knew it.

‘Jim?’

He’d unknowingly zoned out again, and he smiled embarrassedly as Spock caught his attention, reaching forward to pluck a bishop from the board.

‘Sorry, Spock,’ he said, flushing. ‘I completely spaced out there.’

He rolled the bishop between two fingers for a second or two before using it to swipe one of Spock’s knights off the board.

‘Indeed,’ Spock replied. ‘Your vacant expression indicated a dissociative moment. I apologise that I could not keep your attention.’

Jim’s chest squeezed.

‘Oh, Spock, no! I didn’t…’

He trailed off when he saw the teasing glint in Spock’s eyes, his stricken expression brightening considerably.

‘You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?’ he grinned, watching Spock’s rather more measured move without concern.

‘I do not know what you mean, sir,’ Spock said airily, the crease between his eyebrows returning as Jim put him in check. ‘Your technique is… erratic.’

‘But effective,’ Jim winked, leaning back in his chair. ‘Let’s see how you get out of this one, mister.’

With apparent ease, it seemed, which had Jim frowning, concentrating a little harder than before. It was another half an hour before their game ended – with Jim as victor – and just as he was about to offer Spock a chance to redeem himself, his padd vibrated.

‘Command,’ he sighed, responding reluctantly to the video call.

The screen focused on Admiral Zhang, Chinese-American, tough as nails, and surprisingly supportive of Jim. At a guess, she was seventy or so, and still going strong.

‘Admiral Zhang,’ he greeted, sitting up straight.

‘Captain Kirk. Are you alone?’

Jim’s eyes flicked to Spock, who seemed to be watching him rather than the screen.

‘I’m with my First Officer, Admiral.’

‘That’s fine,’ she replied, and Jim turned the padd so that both of them were visible, resting his elbow beside the chess board. ‘I have new orders for you.’

‘Great,’ Jim said, attempting to reign in the sarcasm. In the last few months, it had been mostly milk runs occupying their time. ‘What would you like us to do?’

She eyed him sternly for a moment, eliciting a twitch from Jim, before speaking.

‘There is a planet in the Laera System named Euridian. I presume that you have heard of it?’

Jim nodded.

‘Populated by humanoids, oxygen-rich atmosphere… unstable political system.’

‘Not so much anymore,’ Zhang corrected, her arms folding on the table before her. ‘There was a revolution that has removed the outdated autocratic system, and replaced it with democracy. The newly-formed government has reached out to the Federation in a request for assessment to join.’

‘How recent was the revolution, Admiral?’ Spock asked, leaning across.

‘Six months ago. However, there are now signs of stability.’

‘'Signs’?’ Spock echoed. ‘Admiral, I would question the intelligence of negotiating with a planet so recently turbulent.’

Zhang bobbed her head, and Jim could see that she wasn’t too happy about it either – perhaps she’d been outvoted.

‘Be that as it may, the consensus is that enough time has passed for negotiations to begin. Euridian has reached out. We must respond.’

Unhappy though he was, Jim gave her a sharp nod.

‘If it’s what the Admiralty wants, we’ll do it,’ he ground out, exchanging a guarded look with Spock, ‘but let it be known that neither I nor my XO are comfortable with this.’

‘Nor am I,’ she replied, fixing him with a grave stare. ‘Tread carefully, Kirk.’

‘Aye, Admiral.’

The connection broke, and Jim turned to Spock with a grimace. Inside, he was fuming, but he knew they had little choice but to obey.

‘Of all the stupid decisions…’ he muttered, resting his chin on an open palm.

‘Indeed, Captain,’ Spock agreed, ramrod-straight in his chair. ‘Travel to the Laera System will take approximately three point seven three weeks, depending on warp speed and other variables. For once, perhaps, time is an advantage.’

Jim nodded wearily, the flickering smile that had appeared at Spock’s precise calculation growing slightly as he looked up at that stoic face.

‘Hopefully so. I’ll brief everyone tomorrow. You up for another game?’

Spock visibly hesitated, then shook his head.

‘I must meditate. Congratulations on your victory, Captain.’

His voice, although most would not have noticed, had become colder than before, the teasing, amiable edge gone. Jim’s chest felt tight in response, and though he tried to convince himself that he was imagining things, he knew he wasn’t. He was attuned to Spock in ways which the great majority of the crew never would be, and something had changed.

‘Thanks,’ he said numbly, getting slowly to his feet. ‘Um, do you want to play again tomorrow?’

Spock began to clear the chess set away, his hands quick but careful.

‘Tomorrow, I will be spending the evening with Lieutenant Uhura.’

Jim’s heart dropped into his boots, even as Spock continued.

‘She requires my help with a musical composition. I am occupied every evening this week either with the Lieutenant, or experimental laboratory work.’

Something in Jim burned, and not in a pleasant way, at that simple rejection. He felt his face grow hot with humiliation, knowing that Spock had offered up the latter sentence to prevent Jim from asking when he was free. Did he know? Could he read it on his face, how fiercely Jim wanted him?

‘Oh,’ he said, softly enough that it would hide the inevitable crack in his voice. ‘I’ll, uh, I’ll go then. Thanks for the game, Spock.’

Spock nodded sharply, then turned away, the chess set gathered in his arms.

‘Captain.’

With an aching heart, Jim took that as a dismissal, walking through the fresher to his quarters without another word. Once safely behind his door, he leant against it with trembling legs, his lungs feeling tight and contracted. That, at least, was familiar. He loved Spock so much that sometimes it hurt to breathe, and even though he knew the probable outcome of telling him, not doing so allowed him to dream of reciprocation. Nausea churned in his stomach as he thought about Spock and Uhura spending so much time together, imagined them rekindling their relationship over Spock’s lyre, fingers lacing and lips meeting, and he couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes.

Sliding into a seating position with the door at his back, Jim scrubbed roughly at his eyes, trying and failing to prevent them from filling up. Rationally, he knew he should be on top of the world right now. He was commanding the ‘Fleet flagship at the age of 27, he had a loyal crew and great friends, and he was free of the shadow of his past. But he wasn’t. Ever since his friendship for Spock had deepened into something that burned hot and bright within, he’d felt a great loneliness along with it, soothed only by his presence – and barely, at that. Spock had given him so much by Vulcan standards, but he wanted – _needed_ – so much more.

Getting slowly and unsteadily to his feet, Jim made his way over to his computer console, dialling on a familiar frequency. He needed to speak to someone who understood. The blank screen filled with colour as his call was almost immediately answered by Selek, his weathered face rather softer in its expression than that of his own Spock. It was morning on New Vulcan despite the late hour on the Enterprise, the sunlight filtering through the blinds behind Selek bright already.

‘Jim,’ Selek said warmly, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’

Jim paused before attempting to respond, not trusting his voice to be steady, and Selek’s smile slipped from his face.

‘Something is wrong.’

‘I’m fine,’ Jim murmured, avoiding a ‘yes’. ‘Selek… did you ever have a relationship with Uhura?’

Selek shook his head.

‘She was my friend, but never anything more. If you are asking in comparison to your Spock, I believe his relationship with Uhura ended nine point six eight months ago, prior to your awakening in Starfleet Medical.’

Jim huffed out a soft, humourless breath through his nose.

‘I’m not so sure,’ he croaked, cursing the way his eyes watered. ‘Dammit, Selek, I’m sorry-’

He cut himself off, wiping frantically at the overspill.

 _‘Jim,’_ Selek soothed, his voice so gentle and loving that it made Jim cry all the more. ‘Pi-veh, do not cry, please. It pains me that I cannot reach out to you.’

‘Sorry,’ Jim repeated, sniffling. ‘I don’t mean to be maudlin. It’s just that I think Spock and Uhura are getting back together, and not that I ever had a chance in the first place, but now it’s completely out of the window.’

As Jim composed himself, Selek’s brow creased, his voice quiet and soothing.

‘I am certain that my counterpart is no longer in a relationship with Uhura, though they do remain close friends.’

Jim shook his head weakly, Selek’s optimism forcing hope unwillingly upon him.

‘I want to believe that, but I can’t.’ He shivered, avoiding the soft eyes that watched him with concern; they reminded him too much of his own Spock. ‘It… it hurts, Selek. There’s this ache in my chest, and it never goes away. I know you can’t say too much, but can you tell me how you and your Jim get together?’

Selek hesitated, but Jim fixed a pleading stare upon him, and he relented.

‘I cannot tell you the exact circumstances of the genesis of our relationship, but I _will_ tell you that it was not instantaneous. Jim and I spent a number of years as friends before we became anything more. That being said, when we later spoke about our feelings, it became apparent that many of those years had been wasted due to a lack of communication.’

‘Yes, but you were never with Uhura, were you?’ Jim asked miserably.

‘No,’ Selek admitted, the sympathy in his expression making Jim’s eyes sting. ‘I was not.’

Jim let out a shaky sigh and sat back in his chair; he’d already suspected from what he’d seen in the meld that the two had never been together in Selek’s universe, but the confirmation made him feel even worse about his own chances with Spock. Before he could reply, there was a beeping sound from somewhere on the other side of the comm link, and Selek looked towards it with the barest hint of a frown.

‘Jim, I am sorry, but there is something which requires my attention,’ he announced, getting to his feet. ‘I must go, but I will be available to talk once I return.’

‘I’ll probably be asleep, but thanks anyway,’ Jim said softly, forcing a smile. ‘Is everything okay?’

Selek nodded, his gaze flicking towards the door.

‘Simply a colony matter,’ he explained, his attention returning to Jim for a long moment. ‘If you are in need of me, feel free to contact me at any time.’

‘Thanks, Selek,’ Jim said warmly, comforted by that despite how miserable he was feeling. ‘See you later.’

The picture winked out, and Jim wilted in his chair, the energy having drained from him completely. Usually, seeing Selek made him feel better, but with the call being cut off early, and Jim’s mood being so low, it really hadn’t made much difference. Lethargically, he made his way over to his bed, stripping as he went. He left his clothes where they fell – Spock would be horrified – and crawled beneath his duvet, cocooning himself within. The heat soothed him after the comparable cool of his quarters, and if he squeezed his eyes closed and pretended hard enough, he could almost feel Spock holding him, the warmth of his arms replacing that of the rough duvet. Letting out a shaky sigh, Jim pulled the duvet tighter around him, wishing with all his might that he didn’t have to imagine. It was only after hours of tossing and turning that he finally managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, his dreams filled with phantom lips on his, gentle and soft and welcoming.

When his senior officers piled into Conference Room A the next morning, Jim couldn’t help but notice that a) he was still exhausted from last night, and b) Spock wouldn’t look directly at him. That hurt, particularly when he passed over his customary place at Jim’s side to sit by Uhura, who looked razor-sharp even at this hour. Though they’d never be as close as she was with Spock, Jim’s friendship with Nyota had grown into something solid over the last few years, which made his feelings for Spock all the more difficult. An ugly part of him wanted to hate her for having Spock’s affection, yet although he couldn’t deny the wrench in his chest whenever he saw them together, her fierce personality and obvious intelligence had long since won Jim over. She smiled at him when he sat across from her, her expression carrying a warmth that had been entirely absent upon their first meeting, and Jim smiled right back. She was still his friend, no matter what.

‘What’s this about, Jim?’ Bones asked quietly, dropping into the chair beside him.

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, his drawl thicker than usual, and Jim wished he hadn’t had to drag him out of bed for this. Still, he valued Bones’ opinion more than almost anyone’s, and Jim would have likely never heard the end of it if he hadn’t been invited.

‘You’ll find out,’ he sighed, lifting tired, serious eyes to meet Bones’, ‘but I can safely say that you’re not going to like it.’

‘I don’t like anythin’ on this goddamn ship,’ Bones grumbled, but he quieted along with the rest of the table as Jim cleared his throat, pushing aside his personal misery in the face of his duties.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ he began, trying to evenly distribute his attention between all of his yawning, slumped subordinates. ‘I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed at the crack of dawn, but you know what it’s like with shift changeover. We’ve been given new orders from the Admiralty.’

 _That_ perked them up. Given the boring nature of their recent missions, the crew were as desperate as he was for a bit of action, but he couldn’t imagine that outright danger was an enticing prospect for any of them – even Chekov, who was leant halfway across the table in eager anticipation. Jim smiled fondly at him before addressing the entire group.

‘I know you’ve had enough of milk runs, but this might be a little too far in the opposite direction. Still, the brass is the boss, and this is the mission we’ve been given, so we’ve got to deal with it. There’s a planet called Euridian in the Laera System – I’m sure some of you will have heard of it.’

Uhura inhaled sharply, a crease appearing in her brow, and Bones stiffened beside him, both seemingly aware of the latest Federation applicant.

‘They’ve applied to become part of the Federation,’ Jim continued, watching Uhura’s frown deepen, ‘so we’ve been ordered on a diplomatic mission. The good thing is that Euridian has rich dilithium reserves… the bad is that there was a revolution six months ago that completely toppled the political system as they knew it, and not everybody is best pleased. Spock?’

There was silence around the table in the gap between Jim’s speech ending and Spock’s beginning, and not the contented kind.

‘Euridian is a small water-based planet similar in composition to Terra,’ Spock said neutrally, either ignoring, or oblivious to, the obvious disquiet of his colleagues, ‘with approximately forty per cent land mass, and sixty per cent water in liquid or frozen form. Gravitational forces are one point two four times that of Vulcan, and there is an oxygen-rich atmosphere. The dominant lifeforms on Euridian are humanoid, notoriously quick to anger, and possess formidable telepathic abilities. As such, I would advise extreme caution during negotiations.’

He exchanged a look with Jim, who nodded for him to continue, dread curling in his gut.

‘For centuries, the planet has been controlled by a single autocratic ruler, with both the institutional power of a royal, and the far more useful power of government, combined in one. Though not all were tyrannical, in recent generations, the brutality waged against the populace grew to such an extent that a resistance force emerged. Recently, after many years of fighting, a revolution occurred, and a new, democratic government has been elected. Previously, Euridian has resisted any and all invitations to join the Federation, and only now have its officials reached out.’

‘But that’s good, is it not?’ Chekov piped up.

Though his optimism was endearing, Jim shook his head, allowing Spock to correct him.

‘While the emergence of a democratic system is undeniably positive, serious dangers remain. The death toll over the past decade is estimated at seven point six three million souls, and there is still significant unrest in the primary city in particular.’

‘There’s still the old guard to worry about,’ Jim added, making eye contact with each of his officers in turn. ‘Not everyone was best pleased about the new political system – particularly not those who benefitted from the last one. With that in mind, I’ve decided that when negotiations begin, I’ll only be taking a small landing party with me. I’ll choose who closer to the time. Uhura, I’ll let you know when I’d like you to make contact, but in the meantime, please read up on their language and customs; Spock and I will be doing the same, but I think we need your attention to detail for something so important.’        

‘Yes, sir,’ she said warmly – brilliant, and well aware of it. ‘I’ll get started today.’

‘Thank you,’ Jim replied, meaning it sincerely despite the twinge he felt as she smiled brightly at Spock. ‘Anyone got any questions?’

‘Aye,’ Scotty replied, leaning forward on crossed arms. ‘Would you like me to try and – ah – _slow things down,_ sir?’

Jim couldn’t help but grin, noting with a rush of pride how nobody’s expression changed.

‘That’s good of you, Scotty, but no, thanks. I don’t think a few more weeks will make much of a difference – years, maybe, but even I can’t bullshit the Admiralty for that long.’

Sulu smirked, and Chekov outright laughed, and the tension that had built up around the table dissipated. God, Jim loved his crew. He dismissed them all with a lightness in his heart that hadn’t been there when he’d woken, watching them file out after one another until only he, Bones and Spock remained.

‘Nice work on the research, Spock,’ Jim praised, watching him gather up his padd. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘It was simply my duty, Captain,’ Spock replied, his gaze cast low as he began to brush past Jim.

‘It was above and beyond, and you know it,’ Jim said softly, stepping sideways to intercept him. ‘Thank you.’

Spock hesitated for a moment, their eyes meeting with such intensity that Jim felt breathless, weak beneath that unrelenting, fixated gaze. Then, as if the connection between them had snapped, Spock jerked away, regaining his composure with a stiff incline of his head.

 _Stay with me,_ Jim thought, wanting it so keenly that he wondered if Spock might hear him beg for it, wondered if his touch telepathy might extend just that little bit more to catch Jim’s desperate thought from so close. But it wasn’t to be; with a murmured ‘Captain’, Spock turned away, and left without another word. As the doors closed behind him, and with only Bones remaining, Jim allowed his shoulders to slump.

‘Y’all right, kid?’ he asked, eyes that missed nothing flicking over his mournful expression. ‘You don’t look right.’

‘Thanks,’ Jim snorted, leaning back against the conference table with a lingering sense of defeat. ‘It’s nothing, it’s just…’

He nodded towards the doors, his next word spoken on an exhalation that was almost a sigh.

‘Spock.’

‘What about him?’

‘He, uh, I-’ Jim stumbled, unsure how best to express how he was feeling without being too explicit. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done, but he’s gone cold all of a sudden. Last night we were playing chess perfectly fine, then as soon as the new orders came in, he started acting like he just did.’

‘Doesn’t look any different than normal to me,’ Bones replied, messing with his tricorder. ‘Mind you, you know him better than I do. Maybe he’s just pissed about this Euridian thing, and that’s how he’s showing it.’

Stomach churning, Jim nodded.

‘Yeah, maybe. I just want him to like me, Bones.’

Well, he wanted a hell of a lot more than that, but no one else was to know that yet. There was pity in Bones’ eyes, and far more understanding there than Jim had expected.

‘I know you do, but he’s a Vulcan, Jim. Notoriously detached. I mean, that’s part of the reason why he and Uhura split up, you know. He tries so damn hard to keep a lid on how he’s feeling that he can’t – or won’t – engage.’

‘He’s not incapable of feeling,’ Jim said softly, remembering the utter devastation in Spock’s expression when he’d been trapped behind the glass of the warp core, and the gentle affection he had received during his recovery.

‘I know that. You should have seen the way he reacted when he thought you’d died. My God, the rage in that man was…’ Bones shook his head in apparent disbelief. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, before or since. He does care for you, Jim, in his own way.’

In some ways, hearing the last part hurt more than if Bones had denied that Spock had feelings at all. Though Jim was grateful for what emotion he’d seen when he’d been in dire straits, nothing Bones had said would explain why Spock had suddenly done a 180 in the way he acted around him. Hopefully it was temporary.

‘Thanks, Bones,’ he muttered, the chill within unalleviated.

‘No problem.’ Bones squeezed his shoulder, bending a little to look him in the eye. ‘I know what’ll make you feel better, kid. Come to my office tomorrow night – I’ve got a bottle of vintage Jack we can share.’

‘Sounds good,’ Jim nodded, a frown appearing as he noticed Bones lift his tricorder. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I wondered if you’d forgotten what today was,’ Bones grinned, forehead creasing in familiar lines as the tricorder beeped. ‘It’s time for a physical.’

‘No, it isn’t!’ Jim blurted, feinting one way then dashing the other, straight out of the open door of the conference room.

‘Jim! Get back here! Captain or not, I’ll have you over my knee!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I'm really eager to get started with this story! I've had it forming in my mind since midway through All The Loveless Land, and I'm really excited to keep writing :) For those of you who are unfamiliar with my writing schedule - I usually post chapters every two and three weeks, because I'm writing around full-time work, but I am a regular updater! And hopefully, some of you will stick around for the next chapter.
> 
> If you enjoyed it so far, please comment below, and you can find me over [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you'd like :)


	2. Let Me Count The Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to @spockoholic and the rest of the tumblr gang for being so supportive with this new fic!

It was customary for Spock to meditate during ship’s night, when the ship was quietest, and he could obtain peace before taking his rest. However, given his emotional confusion over the past two days, and his preoccupation with laboratory work the evening before, Spock found himself reaching for his incense earlier that evening. During the briefing that morning, he had found it difficult not to stare at Jim throughout, so fixated had he recently become on his Captain. He spent his days in a state of cognitive dissonance, both longing to spend time with Jim, and knowing that he should avoid it, if only for the sake of his sanity. He had long carried affection for Jim, but the depth to which his feelings had now grown was concerning, to say the least. Among the numerous reasons compelling him not to reveal those feelings to him was Spock’s absolute and unchangeable belief that Jim would hardly be attracted to a male Vulcan – and an awkward, unprepossessing half-breed, at that. Of course, he knew that Jim was not xenophobic, but he had also noticed that his gaze most often lingered on beautiful humanoid women, and Spock was neither female, nor beautiful.

Folding himself into a cross-legged position upon his meditation mat, Spock closed his eyes and called the lights down, forcing his breathing to slow. One by one, his bodily systems were guided into homeostasis, his heart rate reaching the upper end of human limits as he calmed, the familiar serenity of meditation calling to him. When he was a child, his very existence a metaphorical stain on Vulcan society, he had spent many hours engaged in this practice, so much so that his mother had voiced concerns to his father about the length of time Spock spent occupied within his own psyche. In an unwelcoming world, retreat seemed the best and least damaging option, especially upon days when the torment delivered by his peers had become unbearable.

Once he had reached an adequate equilibrium, Spock entered his own mind, surveying the high, strong walls that functioned as his shields, surveying them for damage. Whilst he had been shielding in some manner since the moment he had first been taught to control his emotions, these particular walls had first been erected when he was a boy of 7, and he and T’Pring had melded. The memory of her outright revulsion when their minds had been joined still brought bile back to his throat, and had devastated him then. Though he found T’Pring to be a uniquely unpleasant individual, he could have – _would_ have – done his duty as a Vulcan and bonded with her, but her disgust at his unworthy mind had put an end to that. She had immediately requested dissolution of the preliminary bond, which he had readily agreed to, and to mask the barren wasteland where a bond should have been ripening, a mental barrier had been hastily built. Spock had spent the time since strengthening it, keeping the universe out. He had not seen what was behind those walls in years.

Discarding the memory with years of practice, he turned his attention to that which was more present – specifically, his troublesome emotions towards Jim. He had never experienced such a need to be in someone’s presence, nor such a devastating reaction to someone’s pain, as he experienced with Jim. What had at first been a stormy relationship had deepened into a strong friendship, but recently, he had begun feeling something rather more amorous for his Captain. Jim was naturally tactile, and yet every time Jim touched him, Spock wanted the contact to linger, his hands trembling with the need to reciprocate. When they worked on reports together, or played chess, he found himself staring at Jim’s eyes, or his lips, or his biceps, hoping that his longing was not as clear to Jim was it was to himself. He did not wish to make his Captain uncomfortable.

Sifting through his covetous, inappropriate emotions, Spock processed what he could, and suppressed what he could not, resolving to – at least for the moment – keep non-professional contact with Jim to a minimum. He emerged from his meditative state with a sweeping sense of calm, far more settled than he had been before. Rising slowly, he rolled up his meditation mat and took up his lyre, calculating that there were a further ten point three minutes before he was to meet with Nyota. Always one to be prompt, he set off with time to spare, arriving at her door just as the Captain passed down the corridor. Jim’s smile was blinding, lighting up his face in such a way that Spock felt weak, fighting with his blood vessels in order to prevent himself from blushing. Having already knocked, he was unsurprised when the door came open before Jim could speak, Nyota’s call for him to enter drawing his attention. When he momentarily turned back, Jim’s smile had dimmed, his eyes uncertain.

‘I’ll- I’ll see you later,’ he said quietly, and Spock barely had time to nod before he was walking away at speed, his posture uncharacteristically defeated.

‘Spock?’

Nyota’s voice drifted out into the corridor, and Spock responded by entering her quarters, guilt still licking at his shields.

‘Right, out with it. What’s the matter?’

Her eyes were sharp as Spock came to sit stiffly beside her on the sofa, purposefully avoiding the question.

‘I am well, Nyota.’

‘Bullshit,’ she snorted, leaning back against the arm with a raised eyebrow. ‘I know you, and something isn’t right. Is it Jim?’

He twitched at the sound of his name, and Nyota’s face softened, her lips curling into a gentle smile.

‘I know you care about him, Spock. What’s happened?’

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze.

‘I believe that I may have hurt his feelings,’ he said softly, struggling with what else to say.

‘Oh, Spock,’ Nyota sighed, her smile now imbued with sympathy. ‘You know, the moment I saw you two together after he’d woken up, I knew you two were meant for each other. The way you looked at him… _wow._ I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Spock shifted uncomfortably beneath her knowing gaze. He should not have mentioned it; nor, in fact, should he have sought Jim out for chess last night. He was only fuelling the fires of his own inappropriate attraction.

‘Please, Nyota,’ he begged. ‘I do not wish to speak of this.’

‘Not even when it’s clear to see that the two of you are-’ She stopped abruptly, when the agony in Spock’s mind must have shown in some minute way upon his face. ‘Fine, I’ll drop it for now. But you deserve to be happy, you know.’

‘As do you,’ Spock countered, taking the opportunity to distract her. ‘Have you made Mister Scott aware of your amorous intentions yet?’

Cheeks darkening with blood, Nyota shook her head, picking up her violin from where she had leant it against the sofa.

‘I’ve tried subtlety, but he’s just oblivious – or so he seems.’

Spock listened, aware that the advice he intended to give might seem a little hypocritical.

‘Perhaps a more direct approach would be fruitful,’ he suggested, internally wincing as she gave him a pointed look.

‘Maybe.’ She let out a quiet huff of a laugh, a fond, faraway smile appearing on her lips. ‘I guess I can only try.’

She shook her head, her gaze becoming more direct as she focused upon him.

‘Anyway, do you want to get on with it? I’m struggling with the coda; it just doesn’t sound right.’

She took out her padd and let him scroll through her composition, lifting her violin to her chin. Spock allowed himself to get lost in the music, comforted by the familiar swell of sharp and flat, crescendo and diminuendo, mathematical enough for his Vulcan half, and emotional enough to satisfy the human side of him. He had heard Jim sing in the shower many times, his voice warm and low and surprisingly melodious, his tongue curling masterfully around the syllables of old, slow Terran songs. Spock had often become distracted by the soothing quality of his voice, finding himself lulled into a state of rapture, something stirring low in his abdomen…

Enough.

He must try to stop thinking so incessantly of Jim. Affection for Nyota was light and easy, not like this wild, uncontrollable thing that had begun to consume him, overwhelming and exhilarating all at once. She was his friend, and she deserved his undivided attention.

‘Hey, what do you think of this phrase?’

Nyota’s question pulled him from his shameful distraction; he blinked, analysing the stave before him.

‘Perhaps an arpeggiated chord might be more suitable. Otherwise, it is an intriguing melody.’

‘Is intriguing good or bad?’ she asked, clearly amused.

Spock responding look was carefully neutral, and she laughed with abandon, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she shook her head.

‘You’d make a devastating music critic, Spock.’

The remainder of the evening was spent in comfortable harmony, the piece growing and developing into something that both of them considered adequate enough to be shared. As he bade her farewell, Nyota informed him of her intentions to collaborate with a number of other musicians upon the Enterprise, which would keep her busy for the remainder of the week. Despite implying to Jim that he would be spending the majority of his week with her, Spock had not known Nyota’s schedule. Laboratory work it was then; there was always plenty to do.

It was late enough that Jim would be unlikely to attempt to engage him in recreational pursuits, so Spock decided to return to his quarters. In the unlikely event that he was contacted – which a part of him secretly wished for - he intended to claim that he was already occupied. It was self-preservation, and it was selfish, but he suspected that prolonged contact would culminate in a confession that would destroy what personal relationship they had. He would not force his unwanted desires upon a dear friend. Even if there was the slightest glimpse of hope, Spock did not deserve him. Laying hands upon him after the death of his mother, however deliberately it may have been planned, was unforgiveable. A bondmate was to be treasured, cherished, and when Spock recalled the ease with which he might have killed Jim, bile rose in his throat. He was a disgrace.

As he readied himself for bed, he couldn’t help but strain his ears to listen for Jim’s presence next door. He was a poor sleeper, unsettled and insomniac, and could often be heard wandering his quarters in the middle of ship’s night. Spock ached to hold him through his nightmares, to comfort him with touch telepathy and a loving embrace, but he knew it wasn’t to be. Tonight, as on most nights, Jim was restless, his movements erratic and constant. A knot formed in Spock’s stomach as he considered that he might perhaps have inadvertently contributed to Jim’s habitual distress, his sleep further disturbed by Spock’s necessary, but careless, rejection.

It was difficult for Spock not to knock on the connecting fresher door to try and ease Jim’s distress, his hand twitching when he heard a shaky sigh whilst brushing his teeth. Walking away from him was anathema to Spock, but he knew that his romantic feelings would only intensify if he were to intervene. Instead, he returned to his room and changed into his pyjamas, the black silk warm and indulgently soft, then climbed into bed. Here, in this quiet time between wakefulness and dreamless sleep, he found it difficult to prevent the flood of forbidden thoughts from returning. His fantasies were all similarly focused; Jim in his arms on the observation deck, warm and soft and indescribably beautiful. Jim kissing him sweetly, pulling back just enough that their foreheads rested together, his smile impossibly bright. Jim moaning and breathless, arching into Spock’s hand, mouth, hips, his fingers twisting into Spock’s hair. Jim. It was weakness, but in his exhausted state, Spock could not help but give in. He felt the ghost of Jim’s lips upon his neck, the warmth of strong arms around him, and he slept.                

After an early, solitary breakfast, Spock left the sparsely-populated mess, and took the turbolift down to Engineering. Above him, the ship was beginning to wake, but he had deliberately chosen this hour to descend. As First Officer and Science Officer combined, it was his responsibility to inspect all areas of the ship on a regular basis. Such inspections were not expected to be undertaken outside of his duty hours, but considering the area that he would be traversing, he had decided that the tail-end of Gamma shift – where many crewmembers were to be found half-asleep – was the best time to begin. He encountered few of his colleagues on the way, and those he did seemed too tired to be paying much attention, the lure of their beds all too near.

Spock had decided the previous evening to begin in the area he least wished to visit, to avoid any unwanted attention should he have a negative reaction. The warp core and its surroundings was deserted at this hour, as he knew they would be. His body began to present with signs of distress as he slowly neared the place in which Jim had lost his life, his hands trembling and breath quickening. He attempted to return himself to homeostasis, to calm his erratic nerves, but when the chamber came into sight, he felt as if an explosive had detonated in the vicinity. His hearing filled with static and his trachea tightened as he sank to his knees before the chamber, his legs no longer able to support him. His visceral reaction was unnerving, but he could do nothing to prevent it, his head swimming with a kind of dizziness he could not control.

His hands were shaking so violently that when he lifted them to touch the glass before him, he found it difficult to make contact. This was where Jim had reached for him in his agony, where he had longed to reach through the glass and hold him, and been utterly helpless to do so. Their fingers meeting across the barrier, prevented from doing so in reality, had awakened something in Spock that he had since been unable to entirely repress. Losing Jim once had shown him that to do so again, either literally or metaphorically, would destroy him. Leaning his forehead against the glass, Spock felt his breath coming in short, sharp pulses, lost in the inescapable wave of emotion that had been conjured from his memory. He closed his eyes.

_‘Spock? Spock, where are you?’_

For a brief, terrible moment, Spock thought he was having auditory hallucinations. Then he felt the buzz of the communicator attached to his belt, and he returned to reality with a jerk, staring down at it.

_‘Spock?’_

Gathering himself, Spock lifted the communicator to his lips, making entirely certain that his voice would not shake before he spoke.

‘Yes, Captain?’

_‘Oh, thank God,’_ Jim replied, clearly relieved. _‘Are you all right?’_

‘Yes, sir,’ Spock said automatically, peeling himself from the glass before him.

_‘Where are you? It’s not like you to be late to Alpha.’_

Spock cast a furtive glance around him as he got to his feet, hoping that nobody had seen him in his moment of weakness.

‘I have begun my inspection of the Engineering Department.’ He hesitated, aware that Jim was as distressed by the memory of his passing as he was. ‘I am currently inspecting the warp core.’

Silence.

It endured for long enough that worry crept in behind Spock’s shields, his unfocused eyes darting blindly across the expanse of the chamber.

_‘Are you okay?’_

It was quiet, but there nonetheless, and Spock's posture relaxed ever so slightly. He did not wish to lie, but perhaps a mistruth would be acceptable.

‘I am fine. Is my presence required on the Bridge, Captain?’

_‘Not particularly,’_ Jim replied, an odd tone to his voice. _‘I was just wondering where you were. As you were, Commander.’_

‘Captain,’ Spock nodded, quite forgetting that Jim couldn’t see him as he removed his thumb from the communicator, clipping it back onto his belt. Ashamed of his previous behaviour, he backed rapidly away from the warp core chamber, performing the necessary checks with an avoidant detachment that was unusual even for him. Once satisfied that everything was in order – including the secondary chamber that had been constructed in order to avoid a repeat of what had happened once the ship had stabilised – he walked away at a speed that would suggest he had urgent business to attend to. He did not. In spite of his recent meditation, it seemed that Jim’s temporary death would continue to haunt him, and he simply did not wish to be there anymore.

The Engineering decks filled as the inspection continued, and Spock remained purposefully non-obstructive to the crew, inconspicuous in the background with his padd. When he passed through into a quiet subsection, he encountered Mister Scott and Lieutenant Keenser sat surrounded by wiring, the underfloor panels lifted to expose the complex system underneath. Scott noticed him first, grinning through the piece of metal he had between his teeth. Removing it indelicately, the full smile was revealed, and he elbowed the Lieutenant to gain his attention.

‘Mornin’, Commander! What’re you doin’ down here? It’s not often we see you outside the Bridge or the labs.’

‘I am completing an inspection of the department,’ he explained, noting suspiciously the furtive look that passed between the two of them. ‘I began early, so as disturb as few of your engineers as possible.’

‘Ah, you didn’ae have to, but that was kind,’ Scott smiled, though that same smile soon began to fade from his expression. When he next spoke, his voice was lower, coloured with a degree of sympathy that unnerved Spock. ‘Y’want me to – ah – y’want me to do the warp core, sir? ’Cause I don’ mind.’

A previous incarnation of Spock might have been affronted by the implication that he could not complete all aspects of his duties, but Mister Scott had been there to witness both Jim slipping away and his explosive grief. They shared a common understanding. Still, he did not allow his expression to change as he shook his head, fingers twitching against the padd. Nyota could have chosen a far poorer candidate with which to place her affections.

‘The offer is appreciated, Mister Scott, but I have already completed my inspection of the warp core. Everything was in order, as it seems to be in here.’

‘Fair enough.’ Mister Scott offered him a small, understanding smile. ‘If you need any help, just give us a shout.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,’ he replied, dipping his head as he turned to leave.

His gratitude for Mister Scott’s previous offer may have led him to temporarily develop selective hearing, as what was hissed out upon his departure was well within the range of Vulcan ears.

‘Hide the still, _hide the bloody still!’_

Spock did not pause.

His arrival on the Bridge was announced by a cheery Chekov, and as Spock made his way to his station, Jim turned to look at him with a smile so brilliant that he felt it physically.

‘Nice to see you on the Bridge again, Spock,’ he said softly, his voice bringing heat to Spock’s stomach.

‘Thank you, Captain. The inspection had satisfactory results.’

Jim stood from the Chair as Spock sat in his, wandering over to his station with a gentle, hypnotic sway to his hips, and coming to stand beside him. He bowed his head toward Spock’s, his breath tickling his ear in a way that had Spock repressing a shiver.

‘Did it go all right?’ he muttered, the pleasant smell of his shampoo reaching Spock’s nose. ‘The, uh, the core, I mean.’

The fact that Spock did not immediately give a verbal response was perhaps telling. The hand that had been gripping the back of his chair slid down onto his shoulder, gently squeezing as Spock turned to look up at Jim. He nodded, just once, concerned that his voice might display his turmoil, and Jim’s expression softened even further.

‘I know you’re busy with Uhura and the labs,’ he said quietly, leaning against the edge of Spock’s station, ‘but I’d like to have dinner with you beforehand, if you’re willing.’

Considering his current emotional predicament, Spock’s instinct was to say no, but as Jim stared pleadingly at him, he found he could not. He was more than a little shaken by what had happened in Engineering.

‘I am,’ he replied, swallowing against the lump in his throat. ‘1830 hours, Captain?’

Jim smiled once more, those captivating blue eyes meeting his from under thick eyelashes.

‘It’s a date.’

Before Spock could say anything further, he was gone, his hand sliding from Spock’s shoulder across his back as he returned to the Chair. Spock felt the heat of him in his absence. During the remainder of the shift, he spent the majority of his time alternately researching the Euridians and star-mapping, determined not to neglect the latter, however tedious many members of the crew might find it to be. Periodically, he found himself turning to look at Jim, who often met his gaze, smiling so warmly that Spock was horrified to find arousal stirring within. He suspected that tonight’s meal would only intensify the problem.

They had arranged to meet in Jim’s quarters, and after a session in the gym and a rapid shower, Spock rapped on the door that connected the bathroom to Jim’s bedroom. His welcome was almost instantaneous; it seemed that Jim had been waiting.

‘Come in, Spock,’ he called, already over by the replicator. ‘Fancy anything in particular?’

After a moment’s thought, Spock decided upon what his mother would have called ‘comfort food’, though he categorically denied it being his favourite.

‘Plomeek soup and kreyla, please,’ he requested, sitting at the table, as directed. There was tea, exactly as he preferred it, already there. ‘I appreciate your programming of both choices into the replicators.’

Jim flushed pink, his smile sheepish.

‘No problem, Spock. What’s plomeek soup like, anyway?’

‘It is vegetable-based, nutritious and strong-tasting, and a staple food of my people.’

‘I’ll have the same, then,’ Jim murmured, inputting his choice before Spock had a chance to object.

‘Captain,’ he said, rather uselessly now that the food was being produced, ‘I believe that plomeek soup is an acquired taste for humans.’

Jim placed both steaming bowls on the table, then the plate of kreyla, sitting with a glass of water.

‘Oh, I’ll eat anything.’

His voice was soft, and his smile became tremulous, his expression momentarily so desolate that even when an easy grin reappeared a second later, Spock remained alarmed.

‘Jim, are you well?’ he asked urgently, his food quite forgotten for the moment.

‘I’m fine, Spock, don’t worry,’ Jim replied, shovelling in a spoonful of soup. ‘Mmm, s’good.’

Spock was not convinced by his deliberate segue, but he knew that Jim was stubborn enough that forcing him to speak of his troubles would lead to nothing positive. He was surprised that Jim was enjoying the soup, however, considering its composition.

‘You like it?’

Jim nodded enthusiastically, pulling the spoon from his mouth with the concave side down.

‘I told you I’ll eat anything,’ he repeated, and before Spock could take that second chance to ask him to elaborate, he was speaking again. ‘Now, I’ve got something to ask you, and I don’t want to offend you or anything, but I really think we need to-’

‘Jim,’ Spock interrupted, gently cutting through his rambling. ‘You do not need to be afraid of offending me. Speak your mind.’

Jim eyed him nervously, toying with his soup.

‘I wanted to talk about this morning,’ he said softly, his free hand inching towards Spock’s upon the table, ‘about what happened with the warp core.’

Having failed to soothe Jim on the Bridge, Spock was hardly surprised by the subject matter. Still, he stiffened, aware that he would likely have an emotional reaction during their discussion.

‘Yes, Captain.’

Jim’s hand inched forwards a little more, and though Spock’s eyes flicked down to watch it, he could not bear to move his own hand away. While he was determined not to project his romantic feelings, Jim was one of very few he could trust to accept comfort from, and he did not wish to jeopardise their friendship.

‘I just gotta say,’ Jim began, looking first at the proximity of their hands, then up at him, ‘I think you were very brave to go down there. I think I’d have asked Scotty or someone to help me out.’

He seemed ashamed; Spock was quick to alleviate that.

‘Thank you, Jim, but it was not bravery that motivated me – merely a determination to continue with my duties. I believe that I may have been mistaken, however.’

‘Why, what happened?’

‘I became momentarily compromised,’ Spock admitted, self-loathing welling as keenly as it always did when he allowed himself to feel. ‘The memory of… of _that day_ overwhelmed me, and I could not function as I should have been able to.’

He shuddered, barely repressing any physical sign of it as Jim reached forward, tentatively taking hold of his forearm. The unexpected contact was pleasurable, the warmth of Jim’s hand seeping through the thin material of his shirt into his skin, and he leant into it ever-so-slightly.

‘That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Spock,’ Jim soothed, his eyes bright with sincerity. ‘I… I still have dreams about it. Well – nightmares, really.’

Spock’s stomach clenched unpleasantly, his lips parting as he fought to find the appropriate words of comfort. The revelation that Jim still suffered with the memory of that terrible day was difficult enough to bear, but the fact that he had been unaware and unable to soothe him was worse. Jim gave him a soft, sad smile, an odd sheen to his eyes that had Spock scrambling for words, for anything that would make him happy once more.

‘Should you ever wish for company during the night, you are welcome to enter my quarters,’ he offered, fighting the urge to take Jim into his arms. ‘I do not wish for you to suffer alone.’

‘Thanks, Spock.’ Jim squeezed the arm he had not yet released, his gratitude clear. ‘Same to you – if you ever need anything, you know where I am. I know it’s not been easy for you.’

He paused, vibrant blue eyes as wary as they were concerned. Spock heard his throat convulse.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ Spock replied, preoccupied by the thumb that was – perhaps subconsciously – stroking over his arm.

‘What… what was it like for you? That day, I mean. We’ve never really talked about it.’

The question blindsided Spock. He had expected to be asked about what had happened by the warp core that morning, but not about the horrific experience that Jim’s temporary death had been. It was true that they hadn’t spoken of their last moments together before, with the last year having been mostly focused upon Jim’s recovery. Spock was peripherally aware that Jim knew of his explosive reaction, the information likely having been gathered from Doctor McCoy and the others, but they had never discussed it. Being asked so directly made him freeze, his muscles growing taut. Jim must have felt it, because he let go of his arm, drawing back like a wounded animal.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have-’

‘Jim.’

Spock’s eyes squeezed shut, and after a few beats of silence, he opened them again. Jim remained silent.

‘It is difficult for me to express the utter devastation of those few hours. When I was informed that the door to the chamber could not be opened, I struggled to believe the evidence of my own eyes. I had always thought you to be somewhat invincible; no matter what situation you found yourself in, you emerged intact – if damaged – and somehow, smiling. Not so that day.’

Struggling, he paused for a moment, avoiding Jim’s transfixed gaze.

‘Invariably, I calculated the possibility of your survival, and arrived at a figure that I did not wish to accept. Your appearance was shocking, your pain clear to me, and yet still you smiled. Why did you smile, Jim?’

‘I didn’t want you to see how painful it was,’ Jim murmured, leant so far over the table that he was in danger of falling from his chair.

Spock drew in a quiet, ragged breath, his fingers tightening upon the edges of his chair.

‘I did see,’ he said softly. ‘I regret that you suffered so much. I remember in perfect detail the sound of your airway contracting, the way your voice warped beneath the pressure of the pain. Your speech slowed, as did your breathing, and I was helpless to prevent it.’

Jim made a minute noise that made him stop abruptly, but when he did not seem to be in too much distress, Spock continued, his stomach rolling.

‘The moment your breathing stopped did not immediately register with me. It was only when your eyes unfocused that I realised; there was an utter stillness to you that I had never seen before, and I wish never to see again.’

His eyes were stinging; he forced his tear ducts closed. His human half reared in him, wanting him to share his feelings, to offload the agony of losing Jim, and the ecstasy of his return. His Vulcan side, however, was stronger. After so many years of trying desperately to contain himself, he was not given to emotional expression.

‘Spock,’ Jim said quietly, his voice shaking.

His eyes were wide and wet, his hands twitching forward as if to reach out, but Spock could not touch him. He knew that if he did, he would not be able to stop. Unsteadily, Spock got to his feet.

‘Captain,’ he rasped, feeling a twinge of regret as the formality made Jim recoil, ‘I must meditate.’

Jim nodded, a shallow dip of his head coupled with a wounded expression, poorly concealed.

‘Sure,’ he breathed, teeth returning to gnaw at his rather sore-looking lower lip – which Spock wished fleetingly to soothe with his tongue. ‘I’ll see you on Beta tomorrow, yeah?’

Spock nodded stiffly, ignoring Jim’s obvious emotional pain with great difficulty.

‘You will, Captain.’

When Jim looked away, the corner of his lips twitching into an unconvincing smile, Spock all but fled into his own quarters. His breath was unsteady – not from the minimal exertion required, but from the rearing emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him. They were not of a violent nature, or at least, not violent in the sense that encouraged him to cause harm. No, these emotions were overwhelmingly protective, possessive… affectionate. He had been mere seconds from taking Jim into his arms, from pressing their fingers and lips and bodies together to reaffirm that he was alive and well and his. _His._ It was not appropriate to think in such a manner. If he had given in to his urges, he might have lost a friend as well as a Captain.

He had intended to go to the lab that evening, but with his shields once again in tatters, meditation would truly be necessary. Gathering his materials, Spock forced himself not to think about how Jim must be feeling right now. The emotional topic and his sudden departure combined must have been distressing, but he could not afford to dwell on it. He would rebuild the walls within his mind, stronger than before. He would not give in to human weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this clears up a little of what Spock is thinking... or maybe it doesn't, since Spock himself seems quite confused right now! I really hope you guys enjoyed this, and please leave me a comment/kudos if you did! My tumblr is right [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to check it out - links to each new chapter and info about posting days will be on there under the 'captain of his soul'/'my fic' tags. Have a good weekend, guys!


	3. The Dying Of The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and reblogged so far! Shoutout to @trekdreams and @dragonvamp on tumblr who've been especially supportive this week :)

In the wake of Spock’s departure, Jim sat shivering in his chair, eyes fixed miserably upon the abandoned cup of tea across the table. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d invited Spock over – with how distant he’d been recently, he’d barely expected him to turn up – but this wasn’t it. Sure, considering Spock’s breakdown at the warp core chamber, he’d anticipated a difficult conversation, but for not Spock to walk out on him right when he was beginning to open up. Jim felt it just as much as he did. He remembered the agony of being trapped behind that glass, the physical pain blinding, but the emotional pain even more so, desperate to touch Spock, and yet completely unable to. Now, with those feelings awakened, he found himself alone again, his chest aching with a longing that demanded his attention. Maybe Spock was just overwhelmed. After all, it was the most he’d ever opened up in front of Jim, who was in awe that he’d admitted to so much. Knowing that Spock had felt like that about him was incredible, but even with that as a comfort, Jim didn’t want to be without him. Not now, when his own terrible memories were threatening to swallow him whole. Not ever.

His soup was cold, but he ate it along with the kreyla anyway, chewing mechanically, and without pleasure. He couldn’t bear to waste food – no matter its quality – not after Tarsus. He recalled quite easily what it felt like to have a body dying from within, unfed, unwatered, fragile and weak. It was a rare occasion that he would allow himself to get truly hungry. Once he’d finished, Jim took up the bowls and cups and sent them off to be washed, his stomach rolling. He didn’t feel much like going anywhere, not with this cold void in his chest, but he’d promised Bones, and he knew that the company, if not the inevitable alcohol, would be good for him.

He set off once he’d changed into something more comfortable, finding his pace slowing outside Spock’s door. He didn’t stop – what would be the point? – hurrying back up when he saw Chekov travelling the other way down the corridor.

‘Keptin!’ he chirped, his face lighting up.

Jim let his fond smile show freely, reaching out to ruffle his hair on the way past.

‘Pavel. Where are you off to?’

‘I’m meeting Hikaru in the gardens,’ he smiled, walking backwards as he spoke. ‘I’m helping him choose flowers to keep in stasis for Ben and Demora.’

‘Put some freesias in there from me,’ Jim called after him, watching him scramble away with a quiet laugh. Chekov, while not quite a boy anymore, still possessed the same enthusiasm as he had three years ago. At almost twenty, he wasn’t that much younger than Jim, but Jim still felt for him a similar kind of affection he’d felt for the children on Tarsus – almost parental in nature.

Taking the turbolift down to Medbay, it wasn’t long before Jim was knocking on the door of Bones’ office, saluting cheekily at Christine – who rolled her eyes – as she left for the day.

‘Come in!’

When he opened the door, Bones was already pouring, pushing a glass of whiskey across to Jim as he sat across the desk from him. Jim took the glass gratefully, watching him tidy the room in silence. In contrast to the rest of Medbay, the office was homely, populated by trinkets and ornaments that Jim suspected had been made by Joanna. There was a framed picture of her and her daddy upon the desk, and Jim didn’t think he’d ever seen a truer smile on Bones’ face. She’d be coming up ten now.

‘You’re quiet tonight.’

‘Mmm,’ Jim agreed, swirling the drink round in his glass. ‘Long day. You been up to much?’

Bones rolled his eyes heavenward as he sat down, knocking back half of the tumbler before he even spoke.

‘Three Engineering accidents,’ he growled. ‘ _Three._ ’Course, two of them were Crusher, but that don’t mean much.’

‘Twice in one day?’ Jim queried weakly.

Crusher was a good kid, but phenomenally clumsy, and a little heavy-handed to boot. While very enthusiastic, and in awe of Scotty, he wasn’t the best Engineer the ’Fleet had ever seen – though both Scotty and Jim had a soft spot for him.

‘Oh, yeah. Fell down a Jeffries’ tube and knocked his head, then a few hours later, he managed to get second degree burns on his hand. After that, Scotty sent him to his quarters.’

‘Good,’ Jim asserted, shaking his head. ‘God, that boy.’

He took a sip of his whiskey, grimacing as it burned on the way down.

‘Now you know how I feel when you go off on one of your fool stunts,’ Bones said dryly, waving his glass around as he spoke. ‘I had a burst appendix and a few broken fingers to deal with as well. Oh, and someone’s come down with the Levodian ’flu, which is just great. I’m quarantining them, ’cause I really don’t want to deal with a full-on outbreak, ’specially since you’ll inevitably get it…’

Jim let Bones’ grumbling wash over him, the familiarity soothing in a way. The void that had opened in Spock’s absence was still gaping, though, and when Bones held out the bottle to refill his cup, he offered it gladly, welcoming the chance to drown his feelings. It wasn’t long before he’d lost his inhibitions completely, slumped across the table, while Bones – with a considerably higher level of alcohol tolerance – sat back in his chair.

‘Jim,’ he sighed, tilting his head. ‘What’s eatin’ you?’

With the trust he had in Bones, and the numbing warmth of the whiskey loosening his tongue, it was that much easier to talk.

‘Spock,’ Jim breathed, watching the amber liquid swirl in his glass as he tilted it.

‘What’s he done now?’

‘Nothing,’ Jim protested, but when he looked up and met Bones’ disbelieving gaze, he wilted beneath it. ‘Nothing intentionally, anyway, I don’t think.’

‘This is the second time in two days he’s upset you,’ Bones reminded him, a frown settling into familiar lines on his forehead. ‘There’s something going on. Tell me.’

Jim shook his head – not in a contrary way, but in disbelief at his own misery.

‘Like I said yesterday, he’s been weirdly distant recently. Avoiding me outside of duty hours. This morning, he went off on an inspection of Engineering without telling me, and wound up in front of the warp core.’

Bones’ sharp inhale was telling, the flash of grief Jim saw when he looked up making his stomach twist.          

‘Jim,’ Bones said roughly, a quiet agony in his expression. ‘We all suffered after Khan. But Spock’s face when you were trapped behind that glass was nothin’ like I’d ever seen before – not from anyone, let alone him. Why the hell did he go down there in the first place?’

‘He didn’t want anyone to think he was incapable of doing his duties,’ Jim replied, voice soft in his despondency. ‘He-he told me how he felt when it happened. It’s the most I’ve ever heard him say about it.’

‘What did he say?’

Jim shook his head.

‘I won’t repeat it, because I think he found it hard enough to tell me.’ He gave Bones an apologetic smile. ‘It was pretty emotional. I’m glad that he told me, but he obviously struggled, and as soon as he was done, he ran off saying he had to meditate.’

The smile that had lingered dimmed to nothing, and he looked up at Bones miserably.

‘I’d reached out to him. I don’t think he wanted me to touch him.’

‘He doesn’t want _anyone_ touching him,’ Bones said gently, leaning his head on his palm. ‘I don’t think it’s anythin’ against you in particular.

 _But I’m different,_ Jim wanted to say. Or was it just that he wanted to be? Maybe what he thought of as a strong relationship – a bond, even – was just a delusion… but that didn’t explain how distraught Spock admitted to have been when he died.

‘I don’t know.’

Jim paused, analysing Bones’ expression. He found only warmth and understanding there, as he expected he would, but it never hurt to make sure. He wasn’t sure what Bones would make of his feelings for Spock, considering the way they butted heads, but he felt he needed to tell him. Bones had been there for him since the beginning, was undeniably trustworthy, and Jim felt a little like he was drowning, sadness and guilt and hopeless, hopeless love rising like the tide, overwhelming him. He needed to talk to someone about it, and if it was going to be anyone, he wanted it to be Bones.

‘Leo?’ he began, watching him sit upright at the seldom-used nickname. ‘Can I tell you something?’

‘Anything. You know that.’

Bones’ voice was earnest, the slight haze of tipsy contentment that had begun to settle upon him visibly evaporating. Jim nodded, a weak, grateful smile ghosting across his face.

‘The reason I’m feeling so shitty about Spock ignoring me isn’t because he’s my friend. I mean, obviously it’s important that he’s my friend, and it’s awesome that he’d even acknowledge me as that, but, uh-’

Swallowing his nerves, Jim made direct eye contact, and hoped for the best.

‘I love him, Leo,’ he said softly, feeling an odd sense of relief as he finally admitted it. ‘Not platonically either – I’m… I’m _in_ love with him.’

Bones’ eyes had widened, but that was his only reaction, staying quiet as Jim struggled for words.

‘I can’t stop thinking about him. I daydream about kissing him goodnight and waking up next to him. Last night, I dreamt that we were married.’ He choked out a laugh, wet and dejected. ‘And there’s no way he’ll ever want me back.’

‘Hey,’ Bones cut in, sharply enough to make Jim start. ‘Who says so?’

Jim blinked away the sting in his eyes, brow knitting.

‘You said it yourself – ‘notoriously detached’, you called him. Said he cares for me ‘in his own way’. What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway?’

‘It _meant_ that he shows how he cares for you in a different way than humans would, not that he doesn’t feel anything at all. Don’t get me wrong – I still think he’s a goddamn, stick-up-the-ass computer, but you seem to be his one weakness, and I think it’s pretty reasonable to believe that he does want you, considering the way he looks at you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jim asked quietly, slightly mollified, but still unwilling to hope.

‘Those bedroom eyes on the Bridge? Much as it pains me to mention it, they’re not just comin’ from you.’

Jim flushed, wanting so much to believe him.

‘You’re imagining things.’

‘Unfortunately not,’ Bones grumbled, throwing back the last of his whiskey. ‘You’re disgusting, the pair of you. Anyway, I’m pretty sure his complete meltdown when you died is proof enough. If Uhura had beamed down a minute later, sounds like he’d’ve snapped Khan’s neck. It was like the incident-that-must-not-be-mentioned, but worse.’

Jim had heard as much from Uhura before, but it was still shocking the second time round.

‘I never saw him like that. Never got that far,’ he murmured, that familiar twinge of panic and pain re-emerging as the image of Spock desperately pawing at the glass returned to him. ‘I remember how he cried when he couldn’t get to me. I wanted to touch him so badly.’

His voice cracked unexpectedly, and he swallowed whatever else he might have said, looking down at his hands, which clutched at his glass.

‘I know, Jim. I think you should tell him how you feel.’

Jim gave him an incredulous look, but Bones was unabashed.

‘You were unconscious for over a week in Starfleet Medical. Spock was by your side throughout; he barely ate, he slept beside you, and the only reason he wasn’t at your bedside when you woke up was because I’d sent him away to shower and rest. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.’

Jim had known on some level that Spock had stayed with him, but hearing it in no uncertain terms from Bones made his heart flutter. Spock had cared enough to be there throughout, and his endless patience and commitment to him in the year they’d spent on Terra was something he would always treasure. Still, there was a chance that Bones could be misinterpreting things – and that Jim was relying too much on hope. After all, Vulcans took their responsibilities seriously, and Spock had called him ‘friend’ as he lay dying, nothing more.

‘This might just be what he considers friendship,’ Jim argued weakly, watching Bones roll his eyes.

‘Jesus. They say love is blind, but I didn’t realise it was deaf and dumb to boot. That isn’t friendship, not by the definition of any species.’

Jim wanted to believe him so badly, but he couldn’t ignore the evidence of his own eyes. Spock and Uhura were back to spending their evenings together, and he’d been tossed aside like a broken toy, which hardly suggested that Spock would be confessing his undying love any time soon. The passing thought made him shiver, longing twisting hot in his stomach. He gave Bones an unconvincing smile, sick of talking about it.

‘Maybe. Hey, how did that ’flu patient end up?’

Bones gave him a look that showed just how little he was fooled by the abrupt subject change, but to Jim’s relief, he played along.

‘Well _he’s_ almost better, but the idiot also managed to pass it onto three other people who I’ve now got sufferin’ in Medbay. So I’ve got four whiners instead of one, and it’s looking like I’ll have more given how infectious it seems to be.’

‘Great,’ Jim groaned, slumping in his chair. ‘We’ve got no time for an epidemic right now.’

Bones huffed, running a hand through his hair, and leaving half of it sticking up in wild peaks.

‘You’re telling me? As if I haven’t got enough to deal with. Engineering alone is a full-time job, what with Crusher, Johansson, and the rest of the ensigns combined.’

‘Scotty’s a fun dad,’ Jim smirked, ‘but I’ll tell him to keep a tighter rein on the kids if you want.’

‘Nah, I’ll tell myself when I see him,’ Bones replied, sliding his glass between his hands. ‘And you should talk to Spock.’

Jim twitched, his attempt to change the subject obviously unsuccessful.

‘Yeah,’ he said vaguely, throwing back what remained in his glass with a grimace. ‘I think I’ve had enough for tonight, but we should do this again soon. I don’t see you as much as I’d like.’

‘That’s ’cause I’m too busy wiping noses down here,’ Bones grumbled, nursing his own drink. ‘Just comm me when you’re free, and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Sure. Thanks for the booze and sympathy, Bones.’

‘Anytime, kid. See you later.’

‘Bye!’ Jim called, grinning at the answering grunt that met his ears. No matter how hard he tried to be miserable, Bones always managed to cheer him up, intentionally or not.

The main hub of Medbay was quiet as he passed through it, lights dimmed, but M’Benga was tapping away on a padd in the doorway of a private room, presumably taking care of one of the ’flu patients. M’Benga was Spock’s favourite; after so many years living and working on Vulcan, he’d adopted many of the mannerisms of its people, and understood far more than most how devastating the loss was to Spock. Jim appreciated him for that, and for his level-headed nature in a crisis. Not wanting to disturb whoever the room belonged to, Jim only waved at him as he passed – receiving an even nod in return – and left with a smile on his face.

Remarkably, he didn’t run into anyone on his way back up to his room, but when he walked straight through into the unlocked fresher, he discovered Spock in the opposite doorway, naked but for a towel around his waist. His breath caught as he saw a droplet of water travel the length of his spine, and he must have made a sound, because Spock turned, revealing the full splendour of his tight, lean muscles and thick chest hair. Jim’s mouth was dry, but when Spock raised an eyebrow, he managed to speak.

‘You don’t like water showers,’ he blurted, trying not to let his gaze stray from Spock’s face.

‘Water is scarce on New Vulcan,’ Spock smoothly replied, his towel barely clinging to defined hipbones. ‘However, as that is not so on the ship, on occasion, I indulge.’

‘Right,’ Jim said weakly, desire darkening his cheeks and stirring in his belly. He tried subtly to cover his crotch, suspecting that the tingling there would likely develop into something visible if he was in the vicinity of nearly-naked Spock for much longer. Luckily – _or unluckily,_ Jim’s hindbrain supplied – Spock didn’t seem too keen to stick around.

‘I will take my leave, Captain. Goodnight.’

‘Night,’ Jim blurted, watching him leave with a pulse of arousal. He was weak with it, legs trembling and cock rising to strain against the seam of his pants, and once the door had closed, he exhaled a shuddering breath, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure this without barging in and kissing Spock silly… and being strangled, court-martialled, and chucked out of the ’Fleet in disgrace. God, this was a mess.

He needed a shower, and to go to his room to take care of his rather pressing erection, and he needed to do it in that order, because he was sure that Spock would be able to hear him getting off through the fresher walls. Avoiding touching himself under the spray took herculean effort, hissing every time his hand brushed against his swollen cock, but eventually, he managed to stumble from the shower without indulging. He didn’t bother to dress when he collapsed into bed, hand wrapping firmly around his erection, and with the image of Spock in that low-slung towel still very much in his mind’s eye, it didn’t take long for him to finish. Wiping himself off with the towel, Jim snagged a pair of boxers from his drawer and awkwardly pulled them on, shame settling upon him. He wondered what Spock would say if he knew he had been used as a masturbatory fantasy, then cringed at the thought, dragging his padd across his bedside table with the tips of his fingers. Distraction would always come at the hands of the tedious reports he had to sign off on – and he had plenty of those. It was going to be a long night.

A shrill alarm woke him far, far too early for Beta shift. Obviously, _someone_ – and although that someone was definitely him, he didn’t want to admit it – hadn’t changed it for the day, and he was pretty pissed about that, considering the banging headache it had awakened. He’d drunk more than he normally would, that was for sure, if only to pluck up the courage to tell… Oh, God. Jim squeezed his eyes shut, mortified as he remembered what he’d said to Bones. He’d told him everything he’d been trying to deny that he felt, which only made it feel more real. What kind of Captain lusted after his subordinates? If that wasn’t taking advantage, he didn’t know what was.

‘Lights, one hundred per cent. _Lightsfiftypercent!’_

Squinting, Jim slowly, gingerly crawled out of bed, making for the shower. It wasn’t like he would be able to get back to sleep with the hammering in his head, and running down to Medbay for a hypo would give him a chance to talk to Bones.

After washing and dressing, he trailed groggily down the corridor towards the turbolift, starting when he met Uhura inside it.

‘You’re up early,’ she commented, and Jim couldn’t prevent his coinciding yawn. Her mouth quirked in response. ‘Thought you were on Beta.’

‘I am. Just going to see Bones first.’

‘Hangover?’

‘Can you tell from my face?’ Jim asked, dismayed.

She shook her head, lips curling into a teasing smile.

‘I bumped into Christine this morning. She told me she’d seen you going into Leonard’s office last night.’

‘I can’t sneeze without scuttlebutt round here,’ Jim muttered, though he was hardly fazed. ‘You and Chris coming to poker night tomorrow?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ she grinned, stepping out as the turbolift opened outside the mess. ‘I can’t wait to kick your ass.’

Jim snorted, her wicked expression the last thing he saw before the doors closed. Spock would kick both of their asses… if he came, that was. He rarely did – he didn’t like the crush of people in one small room – but with fewer due to arrive that evening than normal, and Uhura included in that few, Jim would be expecting him. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to watch them cuddling across the poker table.

Pushing the thought away before it could consume him, Jim swung into Medbay, hissing as the bright lights met his sore eyes.

‘Are you all right, Captain?’

Jim blinked, then started when he found Christine right beside him. She had her eyebrow raised in much the same way as Spock.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ he said sheepishly, feeling a little like a naughty child as she stared him down.

She smiled and shook her head, rolling a bandage around her hand as she nodded towards Bones’ office.

‘He was in much the same way this morning when he first came in. I put him in there to sober up a little.’

‘He’s not on until Beta, but I knew he’d be here,’ Jim replied, with no small sense of wonder. ‘Does he ever leave?’

‘You tell me,’ Christine sighed. She put away the bandage in a storage cupboard by the triage room, pressing her finger against a sensor pad to access a drawer. ‘He’s here when I get here, and he’s here when I leave.’

‘Sounds like Bones. Hear you’re coming to the poker night tomorrow?’

‘That’s right,’ she smiled, a flush stealing across her face. ‘Will Spock be there?’

Jim felt an odd sense of sympathy for her; after all, they were in the same boat, though he didn’t think that what Christine felt for Spock was more than a crush.

‘I’m not sure. Why don’t you ask Uhura - I assume they’ll be coming together.’

She gave him an odd look, her mouth opening as if to speak, but then there was a shout from one of the private rooms.

‘Nurse Chapel! I-I scratched it and it’s bleeding! Like, a lot!’

She huffed, clearly annoyed, and snapped on a glove.

‘I’ll see you later, Captain. I told him not to touch it.’

Before he could reply, she had hurried away, and he carried on towards Bones’ office with a sneaking suspicion that he’d missed something. Still, that was forgotten by the time he reached the door, and his instinct to irritate Bones as much as possible kicked in. Bursting through the door, he hailed him with a cheery shout of his name, eliciting a sharp bark back.

‘Christ, Jim! Haven’t you heard of damn well knocking?’

Fondness welled unexpectedly in Jim as he grinned at his grumpy, scowling bestie, who sat with his hands tucked under his arms at his desk.

‘Feeling rough?’ he smirked, perching on the edge of the desk beside him.

‘Don’t pretend _you_ aren’t,’ Bones growled, getting to his feet. ‘C’mere, kid.’

He pulled a hypo apparently from nowhere, advancing upon Jim as he began stumbling backwards, eyes on the syringe.

‘Now, now, Bonesy, be gentle!’

He cringed as he was grabbed, but remarkably, his request was granted, with only the slightest pinch as the hypo was depressed into his neck. He blinked, hand coming up to cup the injection site as the liquid painkiller began to spread, and his head began to clear.

‘Thanks, man,’ he smiled, able to open his eyes fully now that the sensitivity was gone.

Bones grunted, leaning against the front of his desk.

‘Remind me next time that Jack isn’t a good idea on a school night,’ he said wearily, fixing Jim with a sharp look. ‘Anyway, I’m pretty sure you’re here for your day-after-the-night-before existential crisis, so why don’t we get on with it?’

His tone wasn’t unkind, but Jim flinched nonetheless, startled by how forthright he was.

‘Well, um, I just think I said too much last night. Drunken ramblings, you know.’

‘I do know,’ Bones replied, eyes that knew Jim all too well meeting his, ‘but not for one second do I believe that you didn’t mean all of it.’

Jim wanted to look away, unsettled by how naked his intentions seemed to be in front of Bones, but he couldn’t. Instead, a small, painful smile insinuated itself upon his face, and Bones sighed, sympathy written all over him.

‘Jim, I ain’t gonna repeat it. And I also meant what I said last night. If you talk to him, you might get a nice surprise.’

‘Or a nasty one,’ Jim muttered, cowed only slightly by the frown that followed.

‘A _nice_ one,’ Bones argued, flicking on the chrono and cursing. ‘Look, Jim, I’ve got to go – got a physical to perform. But you should talk to Spock. You don’t have to present yourself to him naked, just test the waters a little. Flirt. Just, you know, a bit more obviously than you would flirt with a human.’

‘But he’s with Uhura all the time,’ Jim protested, aware of the time pressure as Bones blew into a glove.

‘Doesn’t mean anything,’ Bones drawled, snapping on a glove. ‘You’re always with me… put your tongue away, infant.’

Jim had dragged it over his lower lip in a mockery of seduction, grinning as Bones’ face went ruddy with anger. He let out what definitely wasn’t a shriek when Bones retaliated by snapping a second glove right by his ear, chasing him out.

‘Go on, get!’

Jim bolted, grinning shamelessly, but the grin faded as he met Ensign Crusher coming into Medbay, grimacing as he cradled what was clearly a broken arm.

‘Again, Jacob?’ Jim sighed, head tilting. ‘What happened this time?’

Crusher was young, the same age as Chekov, and yet as he looked up at Jim with a wet sheen in his eyes, he looked even younger.

‘I-um,’ he whispered, gaze dropping to Jim’s shoulder. ‘Some of the lads were messing about and I sort of got caught in the middle.’

The way he worded it made Jim suspicious, his defensive posture and faded voice suggesting something ominous.

‘What do you mean ‘messing about’?’

Crusher swallowed.

‘Well, they’re quite… they’re quite physical sometimes. One of them shoved me a bit, and I fell. My fault, really, but you know how I am.’

He gave Jim a nervous watery smile, to which Jim barely responded.

‘Were those guys involved when you fell down the Jeffries tube, or when you burned your hand?’

Crusher flushed with apparent shame, his gaze dropping further, and fury welled bright in Jim.

‘What are their names, Jacob?’ he asked softly, shaking his head when Crusher hesitated. ‘This isn’t like school, where telling me will make things worse. Please believe me when I say that you don’t have to worry about retaliation.’

‘Jepson and O’Connor,’ Crusher murmured, defeat in his expression.

Overcome with disappointment in his engineers, and empathy for the boy who, even now, was curled in on himself, Jim gently grasped Crusher’s shoulder, guiding him over to one of the empty side rooms.

‘Wait in here,’ he said quietly, making sure he sat before wandering out into the main hub. He found M’Benga reading a patient’s chart on his padd, and grabbed his attention with a wave. Once they were close enough that he wouldn’t be shouting, Jim explained the situation, and after reassuring Jacob, left Medbay with a vice around his heart.

‘Scotty?’ he spoke into his communicator. ‘Are you free?’

_‘I can be if you need me to be, Captain.’_

‘Meet me in my Ready Room in five?’ Jim suggested, his voice thickening with anger despite how he tried to conceal it. ‘And bring Jepson and O’Connor with you, please. I don’t care if they’re holding the warp core together; I need them here.’

 _‘Aye, Captain,’_ Scotty replied, sounding puzzled, but Jim didn’t respond further, concentrating all his energy on getting to his Ready Room as quickly as possible.

‘Captain?’

As he pounded past the labs, Spock popped his head out of one of the doorways. Seeing him usually gave Jim a jolt of pleasure, but not today. He skidded to a halt, jerking his head in a beckoning gesture.

‘You got ten minutes?’

‘Yes,’ Spock replied, speaking briefly to whoever was inside before following. ‘I cannot help but notice that you appear angered.’

 _‘Oh,_ yeah,’ Jim growled, his jaw clenching so tightly that it began to ache. When the Ready Room was in sight, he slammed his hand upon the door release, making sure the door was closed before he explained. ‘You know Ensign Crusher, don’t you? Engineering, young, clumsy.’

‘I believe so,’ Spock said neutrally, the slightest crinkle in his brow. ‘He has injured himself on a rather frequent basis, recently.’

‘Yeah,’ Jim spat, trying with little success to rein in his fury. ‘Except it’s not him, it’s the two engineers who are bullying him, and today, they’ve broken his arm.’

Shock flashed across Spock’s face, a micro-expression that few but Jim would have noticed.

‘Where is Ensign Crusher?’

‘In Medbay,’ Jim said grimly, dragging a chair out to sit in. ‘Scotty’s bringing the two responsible up. He doesn’t know what’s been going on.’

Silently, Spock sat by his side, his presence a comfort enough to calm Jim the slightest amount.

‘How are you planning to punish them?’

‘That depends on their reaction, but I’m seriously considering transfer. I don’t want Jacob scared to go to work. You’ll keep an eye on him for me, won’t you?’

Spock nodded, eyes soft, and unusually expressive.

‘Of course. However, if the perpetrators are dealt with appropriately, I cannot see that there would be any further episodes of bullying.’

‘Hopefully not,’ Jim returned, teeth gritted.

Beside him, Spock sat up straighter, and the door opened to admit first Scotty, then the two ensigns, both looking rather uneasy. Scotty looked expectantly at Jim as he took his seat, and Jim held up his hand to the ensigns to prevent them from doing the same.

‘Remain standing.’

‘What’s this about, Captain?’ Scotty asked, in a curious rather than a hostile way.

‘I’ve just bumped into Ensign Crusher,’ Jim said icily, arms folding across his chest as pale, blond Jepson appeared to blanch. ‘He has a broken arm. Either of you know anything about that?’

There was a moment of silence, during which Scotty turned to them with narrowed eyes. Then, O’Connor broke.

‘It was an accident,’ he blurted, the volume of his voice making Jepson twitch beside him.

‘Is that right?’ Jim asked softly.

Scotty fixed the two of them with a glare that could have melted lead.

‘What d’you mean, an ‘accident’?’

‘I only pushed him once,’ O’Connor protested, jerking his head towards Jepson. ‘It was Dylan who tripped him anyway.’

‘It was not!’ Jepson snarled. ‘He was just getting in the way, as usual.’

 _‘Really?’_ Jim breathed, incensed to the point that he was trembling finely. Beside him, Spock leant closer – probably unintentionally, but Jim appreciated it all the same. ‘Like when he burned his hand and got a concussion?’

There was sullen silence from O’Connor, but Jepson opened his mouth once more.

‘He’s an idiot. He shouldn’t be an Engineer.’

‘And that’s your decision to make, is it?’ Scotty cut in, face near-purple with anger. ‘Your conduct is despicable.’

‘I quite agree,’ Spock said smoothly. ‘Such behaviour is unbecoming of a Starfleet officer.’

‘And as such,’ Jim continued, pausing in order to survey their respectively miserable and mutinous expressions, ‘I have to decide what to do with you. Now, I would be perfectly within my rights to have you dismissed from the ’Fleet altogether. However, while I am sickened by your deplorable actions, I do believe in second chances. Therefore, when we reach the next Starbase, I will be transferring you off the Enterprise, with an explanation of your misconduct in your records.’

‘That is getting off _lightly,_ gentlemen,’ he said, when Jepson seemed ready to protest.

The ensign shut his mouth, looking cowed. O’Connor was close to tears, blinking hard as he nodded stiffly.

‘Until then, you will be assigned to different rotations than Ensign Crusher, and if I see or hear _anything_ about an attempt at retaliation, there will be serious consequences. Dismissed.’

The pair trailed out, and Jim watched them go with narrowed eyes, trembling with repressed anger. It wasn’t just anger though; he felt a great deal of shame for this happening amongst _his_ crew, on _his_ ship, and that shame threatened to overwhelm him. As if sensing his need for comfort, Spock discreetly reached out, putting his hand on Jim’s arm beneath the table. The weight of his hand, as innocent of a touch as it was, felt wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, Jim does not like bullies at all. And this particular Crusher is English, if anyone was wondering about his language. I really hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and please drop a comment or some kudos if you did! I love reading them, and hearing what you think. I'm over [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if anyone wants to drop me a line, and info about chapter delays/schedules will come under my 'captain of his soul' tag. Hope everyone has a good weekend!


	4. With Shortness Of Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, my thanks go out to everyone supporting and promoting this story - particularly those on tumblr who are reblogging my chapter posts as they come :)

‘I cannae believe that this has been goin’ on underneath my nose.’

Mister Scott looked ill in the aftermath of the ensigns’ departure. He shook his head in apparent disbelief, and Jim leant forward to intervene.

‘It’s not your fault, Scotty. None of the rest of us noticed either.’

Spock could feel the heat of Jim’s skin beneath his sleeve, and longed to feel it without the barrier of clothing, soft and smooth beneath his fingertips. Before that longing could overwhelm him, he reluctantly removed his hand, squeezing before he let go so as not to hurt Jim’s feelings.

‘These attacks were the fault of the perpetrators alone,’ he said firmly, knowing Jim’s inclination to feel blame. ‘We must simply be cautious in the future.’

Mister Scott nodded, dragging a hand over his face as he stood.

‘I’ll go and talk to my engineers,’ he murmured, voice weary. ‘Make sure nothin’ else like this is happening.’

Jim nodded, smiling tightly.

‘Thanks for coming up, Scotty.’

‘No problem, Captain. I’ll keep you both updated.’

He left with his brow creased into an uncharacteristic frown, leaving the two of them alone in a room that suddenly felt far too large. Spock, having once again tried and failed to avoid Jim, gave in to his desire to be near him. As ever, he was attuned to Jim’s feelings. The downwards turn of his lips, the rigid set of his jaw, the tight fold of his arms across his chest – all spoke of an unhappiness which Spock wished to eliminate.

‘Speak your mind,’ he said softly, watching Jim’s expression darken with a flash of concern.

‘They’re all my responsibility,’ Jim murmured, posture unusually stiff. ‘I should have noticed.’

Spock shook his head, attempting to catch Jim’s eye as he stared determinedly at the table before him.

‘Jim, there are four hundred and twenty three crewmembers aboard this ship. Your duties mainly restrict you to interacting with a fraction of that number on a daily basis. You could not have known.’

Jim relaxed infinitesimally, his muscles unbunching a little beneath his thin Command shirt. Spock’s eyes did not linger.

‘I know I can’t watch everyone all the time, but I’m still responsible for them all. I’m their Captain.’

‘And you did the right thing by disciplining the perpetrators,’ Spock reassured him. ‘There is no better course of action that you might conceivably have taken.’

‘I s’pose you’re right,’ Jim muttered, after a beat of silence. He looked up at Spock, sharp blue eyes meeting his with the remainder of melancholy and anger. ‘Hey, do you want to go to the gym before Beta? I want to work some of this off before I go on duty.’

Spock hesitated; he knew that he should decline, but Jim’s gaze was almost pleading, and he was helpless beneath it.

‘I will join you for an hour,’ he conceded, feeling a flush of shame at his own weakness. ‘Then I must return to my experiment.’

‘Awesome.’

Jim pushed himself to his feet, extending an arm. For one wonderful, terrifying moment, Spock thought that he was reaching for his hand, but then Jim simply opened his palm in a gesturing motion.

‘After you, Commander.’

Though he would hardly admit it, even to himself, Spock felt a twinge of disappointment. He bowed his head and obeyed, a shiver alighting up his spine as Jim’s fingers grazed the small of his back. That a mere graze could overcome him so was madness, and yet he savoured it, hungry for Jim’s touch in whatever form that might take. They did not speak on their way to the gymnasium, a companionable silence presiding, which allowed Spock to once again consider how utterly at the mercy of his feelings he was when Jim was involved. As a Vulcan, the thought should sicken him. True, it was troubling that his controls were continually failing, and even more so that he possessed inappropriate, unrequited feelings towards his Captain. However, there was also a part of him that glowed with the attention, a tiny, inextinguishable flame that burned deep within, and despite all his efforts, Spock could not contain it.

He led Jim into one of the private training rooms that were situated off the main gymnasium, drawing many pairs of eyes as he did so. It was not himself that the crew were watching, but Jim, who drew both admiration and lust on a daily basis, his striking appearance and commanding leadership combining to draw the attention of many. Spock ignored their stares, shutting the door firmly behind them to shut out any observers, and watched with a dry mouth as Jim peeled off first his Command golds, then the black skin-tight shirt beneath. He had seen what was revealed before, but it never failed to make his breathing quicken. Warm, golden skin, tight abdominal muscles, and a broad chest upon which rose-pink nipples lay; Spock’s hands itched to touch him.

He tugged off his own Science blues, but the undershirt remained as he suppressed a shiver in the cool air. An unidentifiable expression flickered over Jim’s face, biceps thickening as he folded his arms.

‘Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?’

‘Vulcans do not sweat,’ Spock reminded him, trying to avoid looking at Jim’s chest as the cold air drew his nipples into peaks. ‘And the temperature requires me to clothe myself.’

‘Let’s see if we can warm you up,’ Jim said impishly, charging without warning.

He lashed out with a closed fist at Spock’s solar plexus, which Spock blocked with an open palm, grabbing hold of Jim’s fist and using the flat of his other hand to push down on the back of his arm, just above the elbow. Jim was forced forward, and as Spock made to push him to the floor, he curled his leg around the back of Spock’s with a laboured huff, putting pressure against the underside of his knee. Spock went down, falling to his knees, his leg twisting to hook around Jim’s own and pulling him over Spock’s shoulder to land on his back. Jim hit the mat with a thud, but he had rolled to the side and onto his feet before Spock could attempt to pin him, driving his thumb into a pressure point beneath Spock’s ribcage. Hissing, Spock doubled over, but as Jim attempted to bring him to the floor, he used the weight behind Jim’s attack to topple him, landing atop him on the mat. His hands moved to pin Jim’s wrists above his head, and he straddled the heaving chest, watching Jim pant with a lurch in his stomach.

‘Do you concede, Captain?’

A slow, sweet smile spread across Jim’s face, the sheer beauty of it making warmth pool in Spock’s groin.

‘Never,’ Jim whispered, and with Spock distracted, rolled them over in one sudden movement, sitting across him in much the same way. The one difference, however, was that Jim was not holding his wrists to the floor. Their fingers had become laced together, and a bolt of pleasure lanced through Spock at the delicious friction. He was deliberately mute, jaw clamped forcefully lest he cry out, as every tiny twitch of Jim’s fingers made it harder to suppress an erection. Jim had been grinning when he rolled them over, but his smile faded, the expression left behind as intense as Spock imagined his own was.

‘Hey,’ he breathed, so close that Spock could taste his air. ‘I _win.’_

‘This time, perhaps,’ Spock conceded, paralysed by the meld of their bodies. He was afraid that if he moved, his arousal would become impossible to conceal, his erection contained only by sheer willpower as it was. Jim’s proximity should mean nothing. He was a tactile, sensual person, and his apparently flirtatious behaviour was a mere personality trait, even if Spock’s body was unaware of the fact. With great difficulty, he slipped his body out from underneath Jim’s – barely repressing a whimper as their hands slid together – and struggled to his feet, pulling Jim with him.

‘I will be harder on you this time.’

‘Really?’ Jim grinned, his expression brightening after an initial flicker of something much darker. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

Time and again, they sparred; Jim, chest heaving, and gloriously damp; Spock, overcome by the vision before him. They were evenly matched, as in most things, and in the joy of their time together, Spock altogether forgot his laboratory experiment. It was only when they had exhausted themselves, even Spock’s muscles aching, that either of them recalled Spock’s previous assertion of time constraints.

‘Not that I don’t want you here,’ Jim said, panting as he lay prostrate upon the gym mat, ‘but weren’t you meant to be checking on something in the lab? Don’t want my lady to be blown up, that’s all.’

Spock, lying exhausted beside him, turned his head.

‘Given that I am conducting research into chlorophyll extraction, I believe it to be unlikely that the ship will ‘blow up’. Ensign Ferreira will have performed the appropriate checks, but supervision would not go amiss.’

Reluctantly, he sat up, missing the warmth of Jim’s body already.

‘You have to go _now?’_

Jim’s voice was almost petulant, his brow creasing as he followed Spock’s lead. Though it was not essential for Spock to return to the laboratory, he did wish to be updated on the experiment’s progress, and a few hours away from Jim and his considerable charms would surely be beneficial.

‘I do,’ Spock said softly, experiencing a twinge of guilt as disappointment flashed across Jim’s face. ‘I will, however, be in the mess hall at 1530 hours before Beta shift commences.’

Jim smiled, exuding warmth in such a way that Spock wished to retract his decision to leave.

‘I’ll see you there then.’

As he helped Jim to stand, Jim’s hand lingered upon his wrist, projecting a deep affection that made Spock ache for him as it lapped against his shields. Their eyes caught and held, and though Spock feared that his yearning would be visible there, he could not force his gaze away. Jim’s eyes, so preternaturally bright, were as beautiful as ever, and Spock’s breath caught as he saw the emotion contained therein. It could so easily be mistaken for love, had Spock not known it to be impossible for Jim to regard him in that way. Theirs was a friendship that transcended any relationship Spock had ever had, and yet Spock did not – _could_ not – expect anything more.

‘You will.’

Jim’s hand slid from his bare skin slowly enough that Spock could easily have taken hold of it as Jim drew back, but as much as he wished to indulge himself, he knew it would not be wise. Instead, he turned and walked away, and in the privacy of the laboratory, he traced over the skin which Jim had touched, his stable experiment quite forgotten.

Hours later, when he reached the mess at precisely the time he had predicted, Jim was already there. Jim beamed when he saw him, his dazzling smile drawing Spock in as if he were magnetised. Once he had retrieved his food, Spock made a beeline for the table, sliding into a seat across from Jim just as Doctor McCoy arrived.

‘Jesus Christ, Spock,’ he grumbled, throwing his tray down with enough force to make liquid slosh alarmingly high in his glass. ‘I turn my back for one second and you’re here.’

‘Good afternoon, Doctor McCoy,’ Spock said dryly, unaffected by his dramatics. ‘At times, I believe you would have been more suited to a career in the theatre than in medicine.’

‘Why, you-’

‘Boys, boys,’ Jim interrupted, a lascivious smile curling his lips. Spock’s mouth went dry. ‘I know I’m pretty, but there’s no need to fight. I see two chairs there.’

Doctor McCoy snorted.

‘As if I’d go anywhere near you.’

‘Hey!’ Jim pouted, tearing up a piece of his toast to dip in his soup. ‘I’m not exactly Quasimodo.’

‘Yeah, and you know it,’ McCoy replied, eyeing the white bread with clear disapproval. ‘That’s the problem.’

Jim’s expression was briefly troubled, a flicker of hurt there, soon covered up with an unconvincing smirk. Doctor McCoy had clearly not seen, but Spock had, and his first instinct was to comfort Jim.

‘Self-awareness is not a failing,’ he sniffed, watching McCoy shake his head, eyes wide with apparent disbelief.

‘Sometimes it is. But I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Jim, you know that.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Jim sighed, biting into his toast with enough force that Spock winced. From the growing smirk on his face, and the growing irritation on McCoy’s, it seemed that he’d done it on purpose. ‘At least Spock cares about me.’

Though Spock knew it was at least partially to annoy the doctor, the way Jim looked at him, eyes full of warm affection, made his heartrate climb. McCoy tutted, brandishing his fork at Jim.

‘Come off it, infant. Who practically wiped your ass at the Academy? Who _continues_ to practically wipe your ass now?’

‘Please stop saying that you wipe my ass.’

‘I concur,’ Spock added, poking a tine into a lettuce leaf.

‘Well, it’s true,’ McCoy muttered, falling silent once more.

‘Hey, are you coming to poker night tomorrow?’ Jim asked Spock, reaching helplessly for the chocolate spread that Doctor McCoy had taken from him. ‘Bones, give me- _Bones.’_

‘I believe so,’ Spock replied, watching McCoy shift the jar further away. ‘Will you be attending, Doctor.’

‘Oh, yeah. And I’ll have my game face on, don’t you worry- I am _not_ letting you clog up your arteries anymore! Do you want an endarterectomy aged 27? _Do you?’_

Spock tuned out their squabbling, exhaling imperceptibly deeper than usual as the argument became physical. Jim was leaning halfway across Leonard’s lap, and although Spock knew that it was in the pursuit of chocolate spread, he could not help the primal thing that reared in him at the sight.

‘Spock! Spock, help me out here!’

Spock took hold of the jar with nimble fingers, drawing it towards himself.

‘Doctor, I believe that Jim should have a choice regarding what he eats,’ he said, holding up a hand as McCoy’s face darkened, and Jim began to smile smugly. ‘ _However,_ you are quite correct that this condiment has absolutely no nutritional value, and should not be part of an afternoon meal.’

He pushed the jar back into the middle of the table.

‘It is your choice, Jim.’

Jim sighed heavily, then picked up the buttered toast, sulking perhaps a little. For once, McCoy showed discretion, raising an incredulous eyebrow at Spock. Spock shrugged, paying attention to his salad once more; giving Jim a choice would always yield better results.

Beta shift was uneventful, as it so often was. Though he would work during whichever shift he was assigned without complaint, there were times when he understood why his human colleagues would bemoan being placed repeatedly on Beta or Gamma. Occasionally, Spock had arrived early to Alpha shift to find a crewmember asleep, but their punishment had never been too severe. He knew that it was a rare occurrence, and due to interruptions in the human circadian rhythm; a problem he had fortunately not inherited from his mother. The thought of her, however fleeting it may have been, drew a lump to his throat. Memory enveloped him in the strangest of places, during the most ordinary activities, entirely unpredictable. Spock, a creature of Vulcan sensibilities, did not like this lack of certainty, but there were times, even if it was considered illogical, that he did not mind the nostalgia. After all, those of his mother were some of the happiest memories he had.

He only stirred when he felt a presence beside him, extracting himself from his dissociative state with minor difficulty.

‘Are you coming?’

He looked up, slightly dazed, to find Jim smiling down at him, weariness written in the lines around his eyes.

‘Yes, Captain,’ he replied, startled to see the officer who was relieving him waiting by the navigation console. ‘My apologies. Thank you, Lieutenant.’

He stood, falling easily into step with Jim as they left the Bridge, the corridors quiet and empty. Jim led him into the turbolift, then leant back against the wall of it, eyes drifting closed.

‘I hate when Alpha follows on from Beta,’ he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

‘As the Captain, the shift pattern you follow is your prerogative.’

‘Yeah, but it isn’t fair that I get Alpha all the time.’ Jim cracked one eye open, smiling softly. ‘Besides, I like to be on the same shift as you. If I’d been on Alpha today, I wouldn’t have got to see you zone out at your station.’

Spock stiffened, horrified at the thought that his inefficiency had been witnessed. Had he truly been that transparent? Before he could begin to articulate his thoughts, Jim’s hand fell onto his shoulder, clasping it.

‘Don’t worry, you’re not obvious. I just know you, that’s all. I know you.’

His voice had quietened to a whisper by the time he had finished speaking, and as the doors opened, his eyes did also, meeting Spock’s with an intensity that prevented him from looking away.

‘Um.’

The nervous interruption came from a Caitian ensign, her ears flattened as they both turned to look at her.

‘Sorry, I just wanted to return to Engineering.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Jim reassured her, leading Spock out. ‘Our fault. As you were, Ensign.’

Vaguely disappointed, Spock followed him in silence, feeling the heat of his body travel through the air between them. He wanted him closer, wanted to feel that heat against his own body so badly that his hands trembled in the effort not to reach out. His own desire for a senior officer – and a friend, at that – disgusted him. Tired as he was, meditation would not go amiss that evening.

It did not take long for them to reach their adjoining quarters, and instead of immediately entering as he might once have done, Spock lingered.

‘I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?’ Jim asked, with something akin to hope in his voice.

‘Of course,’ Spock replied, resigned to the fact that avoiding Jim would not be possible, not least because of his own weakness. He keyed the release code into his door, turning back as it opened. ‘Goodnight, Jim.’

‘Night, Spock,’ Jim smiled, the fondness contained therein staying with Spock as he entered his quarters, beginning his nightly ritual.

After preparing for bed, he briefly considered meditation, but his fatigue had intensified all at once. He did not think that he would be able to stay awake during the preliminary stages, nor perform optimally the next day should he not sleep soon. Instead, he called the lights off and drew the duvet up over himself, engaging in breathing exercises as he slowly prepared his body for sleep. During this lull, his mind, as it so often did, turned to Jim. The way Spock felt about him now could not have been more different than he did when they first met. Arrogant, belligerent, unworthy of Starfleet; these were the things he had thought of Jim then. That he felt such ardent longing for a man he had once derided at an academic hearing was incredible.

He felt a hot well of shame as he recalled how he had spoken to Jim with regards to his father. He had not intended to be so cruel, but he had been thoughtless, and uncaring of what Jim may have felt, so long as he had soothed his hurt pride over the Kobayashi Maru. Of course, Jim had done the same after the destruction of Vulcan, but he had not been acting of his own volition. Nausea churned Spock’s stomach, the memory of assaulting Jim in his mindless rage returning to him with a vengeance. It would not have been forgivable even if Jim had said those things without cause, but knowing that it was his elder self who had instructed him to do it was even worse. To strike a mate on Vulcan was a crime beyond all others, and rare in the extreme. He had no right to even think of Jim in the way he had been, considering what he had done.

Resolving to try harder not to think of Jim in a romantic manner – as difficult as that had already proven to be – Spock settled down, closing his eyes, and called sleep upon himself. To his relief, in this, he was still entirely Vulcan.

_Warm hands clutch desperately at his back, his shoulders, at anywhere they can find purchase, and Spock welcomes their touch. Jim’s voice is in his ear, breathy and incoherent, more noise than words, but Spock hears his name fall from his lips in a rush akin to a chant. Jim is in his arms, legs bracketing his hips as they rock into him, and while Spock’s breath leaves him in little gasps and moans, Jim’s voice begins to rise._

_‘Spock, Spock, Spock,’ he chants breathily, eyes bright and mouth slack with pleasure. ‘I need you.’_

_‘Ashayam,’ Spock rumbles, kissing sweetly at the hinge of his jaw. His aim is slightly off, given the pleasure sparking inside him, overwhelming in its intensity. He takes his weight onto one forearm, panting into Jim’s neck as he reaches down to begin stroking him, as keen to see Jim reach climax as he was for his own. It doesn’t take much; four, five, six gentle tugs, and Jim cries out, his arms tightening around Spock’s neck and his body tightening around his cock. Spock shudders in ecstasy, a deep groan pouring from his throat as he comes, burying his face into Jim’s neck while he shakes with an unfamiliar, blinding pleasure-_

Spock woke with a gasp, his pyjama bottoms wet with semen and lubricating fluid, softened penis lying sticky against his thigh. It hadn’t been long; there was still the echo of an aftershock, and the fluid on his skin was still warm, though he knew from his few past explorations that it would soon begin to cool. Reeling, both from the dream and the effect it had had upon him, Spock slipped out of bed into the cool air of his quarters, making for the bathroom. He made sure to lock the doors on both sides as he cleaned himself off, shame creeping in amongst the shock. Vulcans did not habitually dream. It was a waste of energy during a period of time devoted to recovering energy, and even if there was the occasional venture into a dreamscape, Spock doubted that others of his kind had ever woken to find themselves wet with their own release. He was not certain that it was common amongst humans either.

He dried himself quickly, trying in vain not to think about the dream, about making love to Jim. Though he knew in theory the mechanics of sexual intercourse, he had never experienced it before, wishing first for enough mental compatibility for a bond. While affectionate, Nyota had never pushed him, and in their mutual parting, Spock had not considered it to be one of the issues that had caused them to dissolve their relationship. This dreaming, this _feeling,_ was entirely unfamiliar. Blood rose in his cheeks as he recalled the way that Jim had cried out in the dream, and despite knowing that Jim was inaccessible as a bondmate, Spock’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of giving him that pleasure in reality.

Sensibility returned to him quite suddenly as the sound of Jim leaving his bed filtered through the wall. Though, by now, he was clean and dry, and would not have been indecent even if Jim had managed to get through the locked door, Spock started at the noise. While he may not have acted upon his shameful desires, he had allowed himself to fantasise about Jim. It was both an insult to his friend, and a failing in his own control. As Jim wandered next door, his insomnia clearly affecting him, Spock unlocked the doors and walked back through into his quarters, folding himself into a meditative position. It was only 0500, and he was still tired, but given the experience he had just had in his sleep, he felt that it was necessary. Closing his eyes, he began to carefully dismantle his shields, waiting for ship’s dawn.

The day was relatively uneventful, bar a report that there had been an incident between the democrats and the autocrats on Euridian which had resulted in a few dozen deaths. Jim had logged the incident with the Admiralty, but they had insisted upon their journey to the system continuing – much to Spock’s chagrin. He strongly protested the decision for them to continue, and was aware that Jim felt that it was dangerous also, but they could not disobey Command.

Engrossed in Nyota’s concerning updates on the Euridian people, it was only when Alpha shift ended that Spock had time to think about the poker game scheduled for that evening. Jim had mentioned it on the way to their quarters, clearly excited, confirming perhaps for the third time that Spock would be attending. Although the others attending were well-known to him, the closer the hour became, the more he began to consider making his excuses. After all, he would likely be in close proximity to Jim for most of the night, and there would potentially be alcohol involved, which often altered his colleagues’ personalities enough to make him uncomfortable. Fifteen minutes before the appointed time, however, there came a knock from the bathroom.

‘Come.’

Jim appeared in the doorway, tugging his shirt down over his flat stomach as he walked in. Spock couldn’t help but look, his gaze snapping back up once Jim had ceased his struggling. His hair was in disarray, risen in fluffy blond arcs, and Spock’s hand itched to smooth it down.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, his gentle smile making Spock’s stomach flutter. ‘Are you ready? I thought I’d come and get you; I know you don’t like walking in when everybody’s already there.’

The offer was certainly welcome, and Spock was touched that Jim had thought of him.

‘I am,’ he replied, standing from his desk chair. ‘I appreciate your consideration.’

Jim’s smile widened in a motion that intensified the nervous fluttering within Spock, grasping his shoulders from behind as he passed through the fresher.

‘You’d better beat Bones tonight. He’s had the smuggest look on his face all day.’

‘I will endeavour to do so, Captain,’ Spock said obediently, feeling the weight of Jim’s hands even after they had left his shoulders. ‘I am certain that you will also be a worthy adversary.’

‘Me? Nah.’ Jim’s finger circled indecisively above the replicator before he settled on his choice – hot chocolate. ‘I’m more of a chess guy, as you well know. Want one?’

‘Tea, please,’ Spock requested, steering clear of the hot chocolate question. He took the cup gratefully, letting the heat of it seep into his hands.

‘I think Scotty’s planning on giving him a run for his money too.’

‘Mister Scott is particularly skilled in card games,’ Spock remarked, settling comfortably on the edge of Jim’s bed. Though he might usually have preferred to sit in a chair, he would rather take the seat beside Jim than allow anyone else to do so. ‘Who else will be attending tonight?’

Jim counted them off on his fingers – ‘Bones, Scotty, Uhura, Christine, and Sulu. Chekov’s got another date, and I invited Janice, but she’s on beta.’

‘Jim, I’m comin’ in!’

Spock heard the bleep of a code being inputted, then Doctor McCoy barged in without knocking, an act which Spock found reprehensible.

‘Hey, c’mon,’ Jim protested, kicking him in the shin as he collapsed into Jim’s desk chair. ‘We could have been doing anything! What if I did that to you?’

Bleary-eyed, McCoy didn’t even seem to register the kick, simply rolling his head to the side and raising his eyebrows at Jim.

‘Don’t give a shit if you do. I’m only ever passed out in there anyway.’

‘Yeah, you look like you need to be right now,’ Jim said, frowning.

His clear concern was echoed in Spock, who folded his hands in his lap, narrowing his eyes at the doctor.

‘Perhaps sleep would be beneficial in comparison to poker.’

‘What are you, my _parents?’_ McCoy complained, but his voice lacked the usual bite. ‘I’m fine, just tired. Bunch of accident-prone fools on this ship. But I ain’t leavin’ yet.’

Any further reply on Spock’s part was prevented when the bell chimed, and when the door opened, Nurse Chapel, Nyota, and Mister Scott entered together, settling around the room.

‘Evening, everyone,’ Mister Scott grinned, dropping into a chair beside McCoy. ‘ _Leonard.’_

‘This is it, apparently,’ Chapel said airily, her gaze darting briefly towards Spock. ‘Janice said she’ll come next time if she can.’

Jim nodded, retrieving a set of cards and chips from inside his desk drawer.

‘Where’s Sulu?’

‘There’s a good comm signal tonight,’ Nyota replied, dividing the chips between them. ‘He’s talking to Ben and Demora.’

‘Good, he’s been waiting for that,’ Jim added, shuffling the cards. ‘Limit, or winner takes all?’

‘Winner takes all,’ Scott and McCoy said, almost simultaneously.

‘Any objections?’ Jim asked, and when there came no verbal reply, dealt to the left. ‘Great, let’s go.’

While most of the humans around him relied on intuition or chance, Spock instead used mathematics to secure his victory. His ‘poker face’ was naturally flawless, but many of his companions’ expressions were also impressive considering how they habitually emoted. Jim, of course, was a much better player than he had inferred, and a couple of times, he came close to winning. Mister Scott and Doctor McCoy were, however, far more experienced in the game, and seemed determined to defeat one another. Yet when the game drew to a close, neither they, nor Spock, were victorious. With an impish smile, Nurse Chapel turned over her cards to reveal a royal flush, and folded her arms.

Jim howled with laughter, clapping his hands and rocking so far back in his amusement that Spock thought he might tip over onto the bed.

‘After all that boasting you’ve done,’ he grinned, wiping his eyes as he looked over at the two sour-faced Lieutenant Commanders. ‘Well done, Chrissie, you deserve it.’

‘You play a good game,’ Mister Scott admitted, rather sulkily.

Once everyone had transferred their credits, they remained talking for several minutes, but the game had taken several hours, and Jim’s guests soon began to disperse. Apart from Spock, Nyota was the last to leave, and she squeezed his forearm as she did so, presumably in a show of support. When Spock looked up, he found Jim’s eyes lingering on where her hand touched his arm, a flush rising in his face when their eyes met once more.

‘Night, boys,’ Nyota said quietly, and left behind Nurse Chapel.

Alone now, Spock and Jim regarded one another. They were still side by side upon the bed, and Jim wore a gentle smile, mouth softened and eyes warm. Spock had never experienced so strong an urge to kiss him. For a moment, it seemed that neither dared speak, but Spock knew that if he did not fill the silence, he would do something that he would regret.

‘This evening has been somewhat stimulating.’

‘It has, hasn’t it?’ Jim said softly, that smile still curving his lips. ‘We should do it more often. Hey, will you be free for a chess game any time soon?’

Spock hesitated, but not for long.

‘I will be next week. Would Wednesday evening be acceptable for you, Jim?’

‘Wednesday’s great,’ Jim grinned, replacing the deck of cards in his desk drawer. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got time for one now?’

Regretfully, Spock shook his head.

‘I apologise, but I intend to rest soon. I did not sleep particularly well last night.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Jim frowned, gently clasping his elbow with one strong hand. ‘You know, you can always come to me if you want. I’m often up in the night anyway, as you probably know. My door’s always open to you, Spock.’

Warmth bloomed once more in Spock’s chest, and he inclined his head gratefully.

‘Thank you, Jim,’ he murmured, reluctantly pulling away from him to stand. ‘I must retire now.’

‘Night,’ Jim said warmly, his hand still hovering from their aborted contact. It settled slowly in his lap as Spock’s eyes followed it with regret.

‘Goodnight, Captain.’

He turned away, walking through the fresher into his own quarters, welcoming the blast of heat that washed over him when the door opened. Readying himself for bed, he folded his uniform neatly upon the desk, and curled beneath his duvet, creating a warm cocoon for sleep. He could have deceived himself as to why he had encouraged Jim’s offer – that the game would strengthen their working relationship, that he could not avoid his Captain off-duty indefinitely – but the truth was undeniable. He simply wished to spend time with Jim, in whatever capacity that may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, there's nothing like a good sparring session! God, I love writing for these two. If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment/kudos below, and feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) for more trek and writing info/updates in the 'captain of his soul' tag :) Updates should be every other Friday now, but any delays will be mentioned on there. Have a good weekend, guys!


	5. With Mournful Tread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's nothing graphic whatsoever, but there is the implied historical sexual abuse of a child in this chapter

The anticipation was killing him. Not that Jim was particularly eager to put himself or his people in danger, but he wanted this mission over as quickly as possible, and the waiting was beginning to set tempers fraying amongst the crew. Jim, too, was unsettled. In the past week or so, he’d been having nightmares, and while that in itself wasn’t unusual, their frequency and diversity was. Every terrible part of his shit-show history had been paraded in front of him on a nightly basis, from Frank, to Tarsus and the kids, to Pike, and the lack of sleep was beginning to grate.

After Alpha on Wednesday, Jim stumbled back to his quarters; alone, for once, because Spock had been working in the lab that afternoon. Too exhausted to even think about eating something yet, he crawled straight into bed, struggling out of everything but his boxers. He dumped his clothes on the floor, and wriggled onto his front, squeezing his tired eyes shut. Unneeded, at least for now, Jim willed sleep to come.

The next thing he knew, there was a man in his room. He was awake instantly – partly because it was necessary for a Captain to sleep lightly, and partly because past experience had instilled it in him – fumbling for his phaser with muscles drawn tense in anticipation of a fight.

‘Captain.’

Oh. Only Spock. His shoulders sagged, and he replaced the phaser as he sat up, exposing his chest to the cool air.

‘I apologise for the intrusion, Captain,’ Spock said quietly, an odd flush high on his cheeks. ‘I was concerned when you did not answer.’

Jim shook his head, slightly concerned that he hadn’t heard anything.

‘Don’t apologise. You were worried.’

Spock gave him a _look,_ clearly replacing his usual refrain of ‘Vulcans do not…’, but Jim just smiled, enjoying teasing him. It was then that he noticed the chessboard in Spock’s hand.

‘If you are in need of rest, Captain, we may postpone our game.’

‘No, no,’ Jim said hurriedly, desperate not to let him go. He’d give up a week of sleep for time with Spock. ‘Sit down, I’ll just get dressed.’

As Spock slid gracefully into one of his desk chairs, Jim blinked away his tiredness and pushed his way out of bed to dress. He flushed as he pulled some pyjama pants on, avoiding Spock’s unflinching gaze. He wasn’t ashamed of his body – hadn’t been for years – but the way Spock stared, those gorgeous dark eyes fixed upon him, made him feel self-conscious. Spock probably didn’t even know he was doing it.

‘What am I playing this time?’ he asked as he donned his shirt, if only to pose as a distraction.

‘Black, if I remember correctly.’

‘Which, of course, you do,’ Jim sighed, taking the chair opposite. ‘How’s it been in the lab today?’

‘Productive,’ Spock replied, setting the last of the pieces up. He appeared to hesitate then, pretty lips parting softly before he spoke. ‘Captain, if I may – I did not see you in the mess hall this evening. Have you eaten?’

Jim froze, finally recognising the gnawing hunger in his belly for what it was. Irrational fear flared for a moment, before he realised how ridiculous he was being. He had a replicator right beside him. He would never be without food here. He shook his head in embarrassment, a nervous laugh escaping him as he reached out to the replicator.

‘I forgot,’ he murmured, punching in the code for a plate of tagliatelle. ‘Isn’t that ridiculous?’

‘I do not think so,’ Spock said evenly, shaking his head in answer to the silent question posed as Jim gestured at the replicator. He picked up a pawn between finger and thumb, and placed it delicately down two squares ahead. ‘You were sleeping.’

Jim nodded, shovelling in a forkful of pasta. He’d always eaten too fast, ever since Tarsus. He knew it was distasteful, but no matter how safe the environment, there was always a niggling in the back of his mind, there to remind him that if food had been scarce once, it could be so again. Spock never said anything, never pulled a face, and even though Jim knew he was probably disgusted inside, he appreciated the pretence.

Dropping his gaze to the beautiful glass board, he let his hand hover indecisively for a moment over the pawns before choosing one to move that he knew would confuse Spock.

‘What do you think about the coordinates we’ve been sent?’ Jim questioned, biting back a laugh as he correctly predicted the appearance of a tiny crinkle in Spock’s forehead. ‘I know you’ve been doing prelim scans already.’

Spock silently pushed forth one of his pawns using just the tip of his index finger, eyes rising to Jim’s in a challenge.

‘I am not yet certain, but they seem to relate to an area within the main city of governance. In one way, if that placing is correct, it is fortunate. Liaising in a populated area will decrease the likelihood of our discussions being interrupted by rebel forces. However, those same forces may be more likely to attempt to attack the area because of its demographics.’

Jim nodded grimly, feeling a muscle jump in his jaw. He moved another pawn.

‘I hate this mission so much. Why should we put our people in danger when we’re not even guaranteed a positive response? They might have requested negotiations, but how many races have done the same and then declined admission when some ridiculous demand has been refused?’

‘I agree,’ Spock said softly, taking his pawn with one of his own. ‘I do not see the harm in postponing negotiations, or conducting them upon neutral ground.’

‘I’ve made both suggestions, but you know what the brass are like,’ Jim muttered, breaking out a knight. ‘They say that negotiating on-planet shows trust of the host race, and that that trust is crucial to ‘diplomatic success’. I call bullshit, but you know what they can be like.’

Spock dipped his head, exhaling in a way that Jim knew was his equivalent of a sigh.

‘It is true that those whom are reasonable seem to be in the minority at the moment. I know that Admiral Pike would have intervened on our behalf, if he were still alive.’

The lurch of grief that accompanied Spock’s words was unexpectedly strong, stealing his breath away. Any response he might have given died in his throat as air escaped him in a shaky exhalation, feeling like someone had just stamped on his lungs. Pike was always a sore subject, given that he was the closest thing to a father Jim had ever had. He’d dragged Jim out of trouble so many times, and yet Jim truly believed that he’d died disappointed in him. Spock aside, there were few others that could make him go cold with shame. That was why, whenever Jim found himself edging back to his old ways, the memory of Pike’s disappointment stopped him in his tracks. In death, as in life, Pike made Jim a better Captain.

Spock reached out, laying a hand on his arm near his wrist, the gentle pressure both comforting and appreciated.

‘Yeah, he would’ve.’

Distracted as Jim was by his grief and unease, it wasn’t long before Spock had checkmated him. The victory seemed hollow, though, no gentle teasing to be heard, and certainly no half-smiles. Rather, if Spock looked like he was feeling anything, it was worry, with his dark eyes wide and lips pursed. Jim would have done anything to take that look off his face. Struggling for a smile, he tried to relax, focusing on Spock alone until the expression was genuine, and he didn’t feel quite so miserable.

‘Another game?’ he asked hopefully, hoovering up the last of his tagliatelle.

Spock nodded, his frozen expression relaxing as Jim forced calm upon himself.

‘Perhaps you will be able to redeem yourself, Captain.’

_‘Redeem_ myself?’ Jim said incredulously, delighting in the mischievous glint in Spock’s eyes. ‘I’ve won the last three games!’

‘Narrowly,’ Spock argued, an eyebrow quirking. ‘And I have won fifty three point six five per cent of our matches.’

Jim snorted, carefully turning the board around and starting to replace the pieces.

‘Not for long,’ he smirked, waving his queen at Spock. ‘It’s on.’

They played until Spock had only apparently won fifty one point three per cent of their games – a number which, for now, Jim found acceptable. He was still exhausted, his eyelids beginning to droop, and despite how he tried to hide his fatigue, Spock was obviously all too aware.

‘I will leave you to sleep now, Jim,’ he said softly, taking the chessboard beneath his arm as he stood.

Jim followed his lead, nodding wearily, and to his surprise, Spock followed him towards his bed. His heart battered his ribcage when Spock drew the duvet back for him, the gentle brush of a hand sending lightning up from the base of his spine as he was guided down beneath it. He trembled as Spock’s hand smoothed the covers over him, aching deep in his chest with the desire to have him here, to sleep beside him and wake up in his arms. Spock’s eyes flicked worriedly up to his face, and Jim forced himself to still, giving him a sheepish smile.

‘I guess I’m cold.’

It was a barefaced lie, but for once, Spock didn’t seem to pick up on it.

‘One moment,’ he murmured, walking through the fresher. When he returned, he had in his hands a thick, navy blue blanket which he subsequently laid over Jim, who gawked up at him in a way that must have been particularly attractive.

‘It is made of a traditional Vulcan fabric similar to cashmere,’ Spock said quietly, folding the top edge over in a neat line. ‘Manipulating the environmental controls would mean that you would have to rise to change them if you became overheated, but the blanket you can simply shrug off.’

‘Thank you so much, Spock.’ Jim snuggled into the blanket, smiling up at him. He knew his gaze must be nothing short of adoring, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care. ‘This’ll definitely keep me warm.’

‘You are welcome. Goodnight, Captain.’

‘Night.’

Spock bowed his head, lips curving gently at the corners, and Jim held his breath at the sight, determined – despite his exhaustion – to keep his eyes on him until the last possible moment. His First left without another word, and Jim let the air rush from his lungs in a shaky exhalation when the door closed, sinking into the warmth of his bed. Groping blindly, he found the edge of the soft blanket, and pulled it up towards him. He pressed his face into it, inhaling deeply. Though faint, Spock’s warm, strange scent remained on it, and Jim was forced to strangle the groan that rose in his throat. It was a poor substitute for Spock himself, but it was better than nothing. With a garbled command, the lights dimmed, and in his exhaustion, Jim was asleep in minutes.

_There had been better days. Jim had gone out alone this time, left Kevin – the eldest, but far, far too young - to look after the little ones. He’d left the caves, run low through the razed landscape with hunger gnawing at his bones. He went further every day in the pursuit of food, went further and found less, and today, there were only a few dented tins of things he knew he couldn’t eat anyway. The kids could. But he needed milk. Needed milk desperately._

_The one good thing about the increasing scarcity of food was that it weighed less upon his bowed back. The tins smacked mercilessly against the sharp knobs of his spine as he stumbled home, and he knew that bruises would form in their wake, but no matter. If he carried them any other way, his arms would give out. His lungs, acclimatised now to the stink of rot that permeated the air, felt like sails in too little wind, and he had to stop and breathe for a moment before he passed out. He was weak, so weak, with his sparrow-thin limbs and xylophone ribs, and he hated it. He hated Frank for sending him here, hated mom for agreeing, hated Sam for leaving him to live up to the Kirk name alone, and sometimes, that hatred and the kids were the only things keeping him going._

_There were fifteen now, when there had once been thirty, their numbers halved by starvation, and illness, and infection. A few of the littler ones were sick now, too small to be living off the fat of their own bodies. Despite his dehydration, tears pricked at his eyes at the thought of any more of them dying, weak and listless as they were. In his darkest moments, he wondered why he’d tried to save them at all. They were starving with him as they would have starved alone, just more slowly._

_As he approached the cave system they’d moved into, instinct told Jim that something was wrong. Freya was screaming in a way that she rarely had the energy to do, and nobody seemed to be consoling her. Her wailing cut through the air like a warning siren, quickening his heart. He ran the last hundred yards, past the hidden graves of the children he’d buried, and when he reached the mouth of the cave, the bag slipped from his limp fingers with a clatter. The cowering children looked up as one; so did the guards. There were three of them, carrying more fat than most of them put together, and the one facing him had Freya cradled against his chest. Jim’s stomach lurched._

_‘Hello, Jim,’ the guard said pleasantly. He was a big man, but he had sharp features, and beady, dark eyes that fixed upon Jim in a way that could only be described as predatory. ‘Lovely baby you’ve got here. It’s a shame she’s so annoyingly loud. How should I shut her up?’_

_‘Give her to me,’ Jim hissed, panic slurring his words as he snatched Freya from the bastard’s willing arms._

_She didn’t calm down right away, but a combination of his familiarity and her weakness soon quieted her, and Jim looked up with angry eyes._

_‘Whoo, those are some daggers,’ Beady laughed, reaching down to pat Thomas’ head like a dog. ‘I’ll get straight to it then. The Governor wants us to purge Tarsus IV of the vermin that remain outside of the city walls. You know that already, I assume, considering where you’re hiding. So, in exchange for not turning you in, you’re going to give me something.’_

_Immediately on edge, Jim shifted Freya in his arms, the irrepressible urge to protect her and his other children surfacing violently._

_‘What do you want?’_

_Beady gave him a horrible, cruel smile, holding his arms out._

_‘The trouble with being so good at my job is that there’s no one left to fuck. So I was hoping you’d offer up an alternative.’_

_He gestured vaguely toward nine-year-old Korla, her thin arms wrapped around her knees, and her antennae rigid in her fear. Jim went cold with horror._

**_‘No,’_ ** _he snarled, the force of it making Freya grizzle. ‘If it’s going to be anyone, it’s me.’_

_Beady grinned, narrowed eyes flashing with satisfaction._

_‘That’s exactly what I thought you’d say. I’ll throw in a little food for free. I’m not a monster, you know.’_

_Jim felt dizzy, dread and fear swirling nauseatingly inside him, but he still managed to choke out a reply._

_‘Thirty per cent of whatever you’ve got.’_

_‘Twenty.’_

_‘Twenty five.’_

_‘Done,’ Beady sighed, looking annoyed. ‘First payment now, boy, come on.’_

_He gestured impatiently at the mouth of the cave, and Jim shuddered. Though fourteen, he hadn’t been a child for a very long time, and yet a long-buried fear from years before began to rear its head. He passed Freya over to Kevin, who watched him with wide, tearful eyes, and Jim felt his own burn with the effort of holding his own back. He kept his head down as he obeyed the silent command, heart thundering, stomach churning, and misery swallowing him whole._

_‘Don’t pretend you don’t want it,’ Beady whispered, dragging him into a neighbouring cave. ‘You’ve just offered yourself to us on a plate.’_

_As clammy hands pulled at his ragged clothing, Jim squeezed his eyes tightly shut._

He woke with a cry; a wounded, animal sound that tore from his throat and cut through the air. There were hands upon him, and he cringed away from them, but then a deep, warm voice murmured something, and the lights clicked on to reveal Spock beside him, his expression one of devastation. Safe hands. Spock’s hands. Jim was still sweating and shaking, but they never stopped touching him, gently stroking over his forehead, his chest, his biceps. The pad of Spock’s thumb swept beneath his eyes, and it was only then that Jim realised he was crying, tears having pooled uncomfortably at either side of his neck. Embarrassed, he fought to pull himself together, but Spock’s distraught expression left him cold.

‘Did you… did you see?’

‘Yes,’ Spock breathed, quelling his rising panic with those gentle hands. ‘You cried out in your sleep, and I could not ignore it. You were so clearly in distress, and when I touched you… my touch telepathy…’

He trailed off, and Jim stared up at him, not quite sure how to feel.

‘I apologise for the invasion of your privacy,’ Spock said raggedly, ‘but, Jim, your dream…’

This speechlessness wasn’t like Spock, and Jim didn’t like it. Scrubbing away the remnants of tears, he struggled upright, hugging his knees to his chest. Spock was sitting close beside him – closer than ever before – but neither of them moved. Jim needed him there.

‘There are very few people alive that know about this, and I’ve only ever told Bones myself. But I trust you, so much, and I know you’ll understand how important it is to me to keep it from being public knowledge.’

He paused, and Spock nodded, eyes solemn and sincere.

‘I don’t mean this to sound like a reality show sob story,’ he began, pulling the soft blanket into his lap, ‘but I didn’t have it easy as a kid. My mom… it’s like she died up here with my dad, you know? She loved him so much, and Sam said she was way different before he died; Sam’s my brother, by the way.’

Spock had raised his eyebrows in question, and he nodded in understanding, looking vaguely surprised.

‘I know. I never mention him. Anyway, mom was off in space for long swathes of time, leaving us with family and friends, until eventually, she married an idiot called Frank.’

‘Your stepfather,’ Spock confirmed, and Jim snorted bitterly.

‘If you could call him that, yeah. He wasn’t any kind of father to us. As soon as mom was off on another mission, he could treat us however he wanted, and he did. Sam got the worst of it, but I didn’t escape either. He beat us, Spock. Played mind games, played us off against each other, and he’d go off at any opportunity without warning or reason.’

Spock’s hand fell upon his calf, thumb stroking gently over his pants, and Jim forced a tiny, thankful smile without looking up.

‘When I was thirteen, and Sam was sixteen, he’d had enough. He left, refused to take me with him, and I was so wild with anger and misery that he’d left me alone that I did something stupid. My dad – my _real_ dad – collected classic cars, and Frank had locked them away in the garage. On the day Sam left, I picked the lock, and tried to drive one over the edge of a cliff.’

Spock’s hand tightened, and Jim looked up at him sheepishly, seeing clearly the shock and concern in his eyes.

‘I jumped out just in time, and got dragged home by a police bot. Frank was so mad.’ He shivered, gathering up the fabric of his pants in his fingers. ‘Threw me through a window, and when I was lying there, he told me I was going to Tarsus IV.’

That elicited an audible gasp, which Spock looked like he hadn’t meant to voice. Jim reached out and hooked a finger in the sleeve of Spock’s black silk pyjamas, needing something, even if physical touch wasn’t available.

‘I won’t dwell on the specifics,’ he murmured, running his thumb against the material. ‘Just know that I was the happiest there I’d ever been, before the genocide. I had family, and when Kodos made the initial execution orders, they died, and I was smuggled out of the house so I would live. I ended up hiding in a cave system with some other kids, and as parents died, our numbers grew. At the highest count, there were thirty of us, but not for long. I couldn’t feed thirty children. I couldn’t feed myself.’

‘You were an admirable leader, even then,’ Spock said softly, shifting his hand to Jim’s knee as Jim moved into a cross-legged position.

‘Thanks, but I didn’t manage to save even half of them,’ Jim sighed, feeling the gutting loss all over again. ‘No matter what I did.’

‘That you saved even yourself is admirable,’ Spock argued. ‘Many adults died where you managed to survive.’

Jim blinked away sudden tears, a second finger worming its way into Spock’s sleeve. If Spock minded, he didn’t show it.

‘I did try,’ he said thickly, meeting Spock’s softened eyes with his vision blurred. ‘Those kids were like my own. I went out and scavenged every day for food. I did what I could to evade the guards, and when they eventually caught us – well. You saw, didn’t you?’

His breath was coming in hitches and gulps, the trembling returning with a vengeance. His voice was small and hushed.

‘There wasn’t always just three, you know,’ he choked, leaning closer to Spock. ‘They told their friends. It hurt, Spock. I can still feel their hands on me sometimes.’

Spock’s hand rose, and Jim welled up as two fingers carefully stroked along his cheek, the dark eyes fixed upon his warm and soft. When Spock’s hand curled around the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair, to his shame, he dissolved into tears. Spock gathered him gently against his chest, letting Jim cry into his neck in a way that must have been uncomfortable for him.

‘Shh, Jim,’ he whispered, as Jim’s wracking sobs tore the breath from his lungs. ‘I am here.’

Jim clung desperately to him, trusting Spock to weather him through the storm, and when the tears began to abate, he sagged boneless into his arms. He was anticipating being pushed away, but that didn’t happen; as he half-lay upon him, Spock continued holding him tight, one hand stroking rhythmically over his back.

‘The horrors that you have had to endure sicken me,’ he admitted, surprising Jim with the emotional declaration. ‘That you remain intact shows quite how exceptional you are.’

Jim drew back a little so he could look at Spock’s face, the sincerity there overwhelming him. He wiped away the dampness on his cheeks and leant back in the cradle of strong arms, allowing himself to be looked after, for once. Spock was watching him silently, lovely eyes fixed upon him with an intensity that made him shiver.

‘I’m not exceptional,’ Jim demurred, picking at a thread from the hem of his shirt.

‘Yes, you are. You survived beyond all odds, and also saved the lives of a number of children, whom likely would have starved to death without you.’

‘I whored myself out for food,’ Jim whispered, eyes dropping to his lap.

‘You were forced into a sexually abusive situation by adult men who raped you,’ Spock said firmly, the tone as much as the words making him jerk. ‘You were not old enough to give consent, even if they had believed you to be of legal age, which they evidently did not. You survived one abusive situation after another, and you have still managed to become a strong, capable Captain who inspires loyalty in his crew. You are _exceptional.’_

The emphasis he put on the word made Jim’s cheeks burn, but Spock’s gaze did not falter. Despite the emotional turmoil of the night, Jim felt his lips begin to curve.

‘Thanks, Spock. You’re not so bad yourself. Hey, d’you want to see something?’

‘I hesitate to say ‘yes’ with you, Captain.’

Jim rolled his eyes, reluctantly crawling off Spock’s lap in order to get into the drawer of his bedside table, retrieving his personal padd from inside.

‘Nine of us survived,’ he began, typing in the latest version of the dynamic code. ‘One little boy has since died, and I’m not in contact with a set of twins whose family whisked them away as soon as we were rescued, but the other five? I still know them.’

He flicked through his files to a photo of them all, a few years back, turning it proudly to Spock.

‘I’d have taken them all when we were rescued, but the law said I wasn’t old enough. I mean, I wasn’t, but I still felt like their dad, you know?’

He looked up at Spock, who nodded solemnly, poring over the picture.

‘I’ll show you them individually, if you want. Kevin’s the oldest.’

Jim flicked to a picture of a young, smiling blond-haired man, perhaps a little older than Chekov.

‘He’s just graduated from Starfleet with Lieutenant status,’ Jim said proudly, showing Spock another picture of two teenagers in lab coats. The young lady was holding a trophy, grinning and flushing at the same time. ‘Thomas and Zahra love the Sciences; they’re both in the first year of college and loving it.’

‘What are they studying?’ Spock asked quietly, leaning over his shoulder.

‘Zah’s pre-med, and Tom is going into biomedical science, but I don’t doubt he’ll do something else on top. He’s very eager to learn.’

The picture changed again to a young man, perhaps seventeen, covered in paint, looking grumpily out at them.

‘That’s Chaim,’ Jim said fondly, pointing at the canvases behind him. ‘He’s an artist, and he didn’t much appreciate his cousin trying to play Paintball Assassin in his studio.’

‘That is understandable.’

‘I know,’ Jim smiled, flicking to the last picture, showing a tiny, dark-haired teenager, a barely-there smile on her lips. ‘The baby lived, amazingly, and this is her. Freya. We had problems when we first came back to Earth because we were so attached to one another. I really was the only parent she’d ever known.’

‘I imagine that it must have been difficult for you,’ Spock murmured, and Jim nodded, a lump forming in his throat.

‘They were my kids, Spock. But all of them have been brought up in happy homes – I’ve made sure of it. Freya’s just turned fifteen, and she’s very quiet, very serious. You’d like her.’

Spock inclined his head, reaching out to deftly flick back to the picture of the six of them.

‘You must be very proud.’

'Yeah, I am. Kevin’s applied to join the Enterprise when we next have a stop-off near the Sol system, and I think I’m going to accept. He’s a good officer.’

‘I defer to your good judgement, Jim,’ Spock said warmly, clicking the padd off. ‘Now it is time for you to sleep.’

That sounded like a great idea; Jim’s impromptu awakening had left him almost as tired as he had been that afternoon. Yet he knew that on nights like this, getting back to sleep would be nigh on impossible. As Spock returned the padd to the drawer, he gathered his courage to speak, knowing that it was a childish request to make.

‘S-Stay?'

Spock turned back to him, and Jim’s insides shrivelled, wishing he’d never said anything.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, looking down at the blanket. ‘It’s just that I find it hard to get back to sleep once I’ve… never mind, Spock, ignore me.’

There was a dip in the mattress as Spock sat back down, his hand touching Jim’s arm briefly.

‘I cannot,’ he replied, lifting the duvet and blanket so that Jim could ease down beneath them. ‘I will not. If it will be of help to you, I will remain until you fall asleep.’

Relief suffused Jim, the knot that had begun forming in his stomach unravelling all at once, and as Spock settled beside him on the bed, he smiled gratefully up at him.

‘Thanks, Spock. You’re the best.’

Spock called the lights down, tucking him in, and the back of his knuckles grazed Jim’s face as he did so, eliciting a shiver Jim could not suppress.

‘Sleep, Jim,’ Spock said softly, his voice low and soothing. ‘I am with you.’

Five minutes later, Jim was out like a light, lullabied by the warmth of the blanket, Spock’s presence, and the hand ghosting over his brow, in a movement so brief that he thought he might have dreamt it.

When he woke, he knew before his eyes were open that Spock wasn’t there. Trying not to be too disappointed, he ran sluggishly through his morning routine, and when he concluded that Spock had already left, he swallowed his hurt and wandered down to Bones’ quarters, knocking in an obnoxiously insistent rhythm.

_‘No,’_ was the first thing Bones said upon opening the door, the sound more of a hiss than anything. He was decidedly rumpled; Jim knew he hated mornings, despite years of early starts. ‘You do _not_ get to be like this before I’ve finished my morning coffee.’

‘Is it portable?’

Bones just narrowed his eyes, growling something suitably angry and incoherent as Jim barged past him in order to make use of his replicator.

‘I’m just getting a cereal bar,’ Jim placated, snatching up his coffee to hand to him. ‘I thought you wanted me to eat three meals a day.’

‘Yeah, but preferably not in my room at this hour.’

Jim sighed dramatically, leading him out into the corridor and biting into the cereal bar.

‘I don’t like walking late into my own meetings,’ he mumbled through his breakfast.

Predictably, there was a backlash –

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, infant!’

‘I’m _multitasking,’_ Jim coughed, choking up a chunk that he had accidentally breathed in.

‘Obviously not,’ Bones snarled, thumping him heartily on the back as he wheezed. He snatched the bar straight out of his hand. ‘I’m confiscating it until we’re in your Ready Room.’

‘You can’t take food away from your Captain!’

‘I can if you stop breathin’, dumbass.’

They squabbled all the way down to the meeting room, and Jim initiated an actual fight in the turbolift, culminating in one kicked shin, one stamped-on foot, and a very smug Captain in the possession of half a cereal bar, which he promptly shoved whole into his mouth.

‘Mwfn!’ he grinned, hoping that the ‘I win’ had translated.

‘Lord help me.’

Expecting them to be the first ones to arrive, Jim barged straight into his Ready Room, the teasing grin fading from his face as he walked in to see Uhura and Spock already there, heads bent together in intimate conversation. Uhura twitched back when she saw him, as if she’d done something wrong.

‘Morning, Captain. Leonard.’

Bones called out his own greetings, and Jim forced the best approximation of a smile he could, his chest feeling tight and hot. Over the last few weeks, he’d begun to hope, and the idea that his nagging suspicions had been right made him feel nauseous.

‘Morning,’ he mumbled, skilfully avoiding Bones’ shrewd eyes as he sat. ‘What’ve you got for us, Commander?’

‘Information regarding those in power on Euridian.’

When Jim finally looked up, Spock was watching him closely, his face as blank as ever, but his gaze as intense as it had been the night previous. Swallowing, Jim tried his best to concentrate on the mission intel rather than the sinfully dark eyes.

‘As you already know, the repressive regime that was overthrown six point three two months ago was previously ruled by a male named Knair, whose power was inherited from his mother’s brother. What you may not know, is that Knair was killed during the recent period of instability, and his position has been overtaken by his cousin Faeral, whom by all accounts, is an even more vicious leader. This is the most recent picture we have of Faeral.’

The holo flickered to life, and Jim stared up at the picture of the latest tyrant, having expected someone bigger. Then again, the Euridians were all slight, their features delicate, almost childlike. There were remnants of their aquatic days – ribbed skin at the neck where there had once been functioning gills, and smooth, streamlined bodies – but for the most part, they seemed similar to human. At least, until their telepathy came into play.

‘And this,’ said Spock, changing the picture to show someone with a rather friendlier face, ‘is Eana. She is the current elected Euridian leader, and the being who reached out to the Federation. She has, so far, been cooperative, but she is understandably wary about sending information across subspace networks.’

If Faeral was small, then Eana was tiny, her skilfully-tailored robes doing little to hide the fact. Yet here was the being who had toppled a thousand-year regime; she was obviously a formidable leader, and despite her innocent appearance, Jim wouldn’t underestimate her.

‘For the most part, they’re speechless,’ Uhura added, tapping away on her padd. ‘They prefer to use telepathy instead of their vocal cords, which means that spoken language is mostly unnecessary. They are, however, aware that some species might find that invasive, so there is a secondary language that’s often used in foreign policy. It’s conceptually different from Standard, but the Universal Translator is picking it up quite well. Here-’

She tapped her padd screen once more, and a recording played of something which sounded remarkably like whale song, just quieter, and echoing less.

‘Just how powerful is their telepathy?’ Bones asked, as wary as ever.

‘More so than that of Vulcans, it appears,’ Spock replied tersely. ‘Like most species, Euridians are guarded about their strengths and weaknesses, but in addition to touch telepathy, there is evidence that they can perform some degree of empathic manipulation, and have limited capacity to create illusions.’

Jim’s stomach spasmed, a deep sense of unease making itself known from within. There was a short silence, and Bones’ and Uhura’s disquieted expressions matched what he imagined his own to look like. Spock, of course, remained neutral, but his eyes were fixed unerringly upon Jim in a way that only increased his sense of nervousness.

‘Anything else of relevance?’ he asked quietly, scanning the faces of the others. When there came no positive reply, he let his hands fall to the table with a dull smack, using them as leverage to stand. ‘Well, then, meeting’s over. Thanks for coming off-shift, Nyota.’

‘No problem. It ran on from Gamma anyway.’

With a ‘see you later’, and a clap on his back, Bones was gone, leaving him with Spock – who was on Alpha – and Uhura, who by now, was probably due for a sleep. He gathered his things slowly, lingering on purpose, but the two of them were stood together, and seemed to be waiting for him to leave. His chest ached as Spock’s dispassionate eyes flickered over him, then back to Uhura, who gave Jim an awkward smile. Jim knew when he wasn’t wanted.

Shoulders slumped, he nodded to Uhura, then tipped his head at Spock.

‘I’ll, uh, I’ll see you on the Bridge.’

He didn’t wait for a reply, and one never came. Childish though it may have been, he slammed his elbow against the door release to let it close, misery and humiliation burning in his gut. Over the past few weeks, he’d seen yet more evidence that the two of them were in a relationship, and while he didn’t want to believe it, he couldn’t ignore the evidence of his own eyes. Sometimes he hated how good his instincts were, no matter how they’d helped him in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hope you've all had a good week! I also hope you like this chapter - some of it was difficult to write, but important, because there's so much I believe that Jim had survived, and I wanted Spock to realise that. They're also getting pretty close to Euridian now! If you did like the chapter, please leave kudos or a comment below, and feel free to come to my [tumblr](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/). Reblogs of my fic posts are very much appreciated :) Happy weekend, folks!


	6. The Unforgiving Minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has reblogged my fic posts, and particularly to IvanW, who as you all know, is an amazing K/S writer on here - check [him](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvanW/pseuds/IvanW) out!

Despite all hopes to the contrary, the Enterprise had arrived in the Laera system within twenty two days, and contact had been made with the Euridian government in their primary city. Unusually, Spock found himself displeased with Mister Scott’s efficiency, both the logic of his people and the instinct derived from his human side insisting that this mission was best to be avoided. Unfortunately, that was not possible. Jim was often ‘on thin ice’ with the Admiralty, and although this mission was certain to carry risk, orders were non-negotiable. Considering the delicate situation, it had been decided that only he and Jim would take the call from Eana when it came, as it was planned to, that morning.

With the ship in range, and the universal translator having been calibrated by Nyota, Spock and Jim sat together in the Captain’s Ready Room, Jim’s fingernails tapping rhythmically against the desk. Though he hid it well, Spock knew that he was nervous, his restlessness growing ever more apparent.

‘They’re late.’

‘Diplomats often are,’ Spock said calmly, attempting to reassure him. ‘Those that are not Vulcan, that is.’

As he had anticipated, the tension in Jim dissipated slightly as he huffed out an amused breath through his nose, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled.

‘You just can’t help yourself, can you, Spock?’

‘I do not know what you mean, sir.’

Jim raised his eyebrows, a grin forming, but any reply he might have had was interrupted by the whistle announcing communication from the Bridge. Jim reached forward to flick the comm on.

‘Captain here.’

_‘Sir, the Euridian leader has contacted us.’_

‘Great, patch her through,’ Jim ordered, and Spock sat up even straighter as her picture appeared on the screen, her expression pleasant enough, in humanoid terms. The natural sound of her voice as she opened her mouth was scrambled by the translator, reforming in Standard.

‘Greetings, Captain Kirk. May I ask who your companion is?’

‘Certainly,’ Jim replied amiably. ‘This is Commander Spock, my First, and Science Officer.’

Spock inclined his head in respect, which he truly felt for her after what he had learnt of her considerable achievements both on the battlefield, and in office.

‘Greetings, Commander Spock,’ she said politely, folding her hands on the table before her. ‘I believe you have received the coordinates for the location of our meeting?’

Jim nodded, the only visible sign of his anxiety present in a singular twitch in his jaw.

‘In Central Pirilia, yes. But I have to ask, Prime Minister, do you not think it would be better to meet in a more remote location?’

Her face darkened momentarily, and her reply, Spock noted, was tighter than he considered reasonable.

‘Do you think my decision foolish, Captain?’

‘Not at all,’ Jim said hastily. ‘Only that we know you’ve been having a lot of trouble with dissidents in recent weeks, and Pirilia is a target.’

‘I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me flee,’ Eana replied, a tiny ripple of movement down each set of gills making them flare. ‘Nor should you, Captain.’

Jim bristled, and although Spock knew that he was unlikely to snap during diplomatic negotiations, he felt for Jim’s leg and squeezed it gently in warning. Jim did not take insinuations of cowardice well.

‘With all due respect, Prime Minister,’ Spock said smoothly, in the vacuum that followed, ‘the safety of our crew is paramount. We are an exploratory force, and our crewmembers are trained as such. While we have great respect for all you have achieved during the recent struggles, we wish only for peaceful negotiations and mutual agreement on diplomatic terms.’

Jim nodded, the solid muscle beneath Spock’s hand relaxing.

‘Naturally, I agree with my First, which is why we will be beaming down as part of a team with minimal personnel. I both understand and appreciate the need to appear strong in the face of terrorism, but I will not take unnecessary risks with my people, as you would not with yours.’

Eana eyed them both sharply, in such a way that Spock wondered if negotiations would not end before they had ever begun. Then, however, she sat back in her chair, a visible weariness overtaking her.

‘I am glad that you care for your people. I will not leave Pirilia for negotiations, but the group you assemble and the arms which you carry are entirely your decision. Now, I propose that we begin tomorrow, in the hour after the rise of our second sun. Have you any objections?’

‘Not at all,’ Jim smiled, twitching as Spock finally removed his hand. ‘I’ll gather my people and we’ll see you tomorrow to begin the talks.’

‘Excellent. Until then, Captain. Commander.’

Spock and Jim nodded almost in unison as the screen blinked out, and Jim slumped in his chair in a way that he would in front of very few.

‘God, I hope this works out.’

‘As do I,’ Spock agreed, gaze sweeping over his Captain’s body with concern. ‘Jim, are you quite well?’

Jim gave him a crooked, tired smile, eyes soft as they met his.

‘I’m fine, Spock, don’t worry. Just a little uneasy about these negotiations. I admire her tenacity, but I just have this nagging feeling that something’s going to go wrong.’

‘We have done all we can to prepare,’ Spock reassured him, despite his own reservations.

‘I know.’ Jim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘I need you with me this time, if you’re willing.’

‘Of course, Captain.’

Jim’s answering smile, though still somewhat lacklustre, was full enough of affection that Spock felt his stomach tingle.

‘Thanks, Spock. You’re the best. You coming to the Bridge with me? I need to tell Uhura that she’s coming with us tomorrow.’

In lieu of a reply to his question, Spock stood, allowing Jim to precede him to the exit.

‘Who else have you decided upon to be part of the away team?’ he asked, falling easily into step beside him.

‘Apart from us and Uhura, not many. I want Giotto as a definite… maybe Lewinsky too.’

‘I do not doubt his enthusiasm, but he is inexperienced.’

Jim shrugged, greeting two of Spock’s Science track ensigns with a grin. Spock nodded swiftly, inwardly pleased when they mimicked him.

‘So was I when I became Captain. But I think I’ve done okay, haven’t I?’

‘You have performed remarkably,’ Spock praised, watching Jim’s cheeks pink in pleasure with satisfaction of his own.

‘Thanks,’ Jim grinned, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of one of the Security team. ‘Giotto, you got a minute?’

Stoic and solemn, grey-haired Lieutenant Commander Giotto was a man whom Spock rather admired. When Jim called for him, he left his post at once, coming to a halt before them in front of the turbolift.

‘Yes, Captain?’

‘I just wanted to tell you that I’ve chosen you to come with us to Euridian tomorrow. There’s only going to be a very small team, because of the potential danger from the old guard, but I want you to be part of it. There’s going to be a briefing tomorrow at 0800; if you could let Lewinsky know for me, I’d be grateful, because he’s coming too.’

Giotto nodded once more, a small smile having appeared over the course of Jim’s speech. Jim had always been skilled at making his crew feel like they were valued, and good at what they did.

‘I will, sir. Thank you, sir.’

‘You might not be thanking me tomorrow,’ Jim quipped, his communicator buzzing, ‘but you’re welcome anyway. See you at 0800.’

Spock followed wordlessly as Jim moved into the turbolift, flipping open the comm unit.

‘I’ll be there in a moment, Lieutenant,’ he greeted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at Spock. ‘Guess she wants the goss on Eana.’

Spock raised an eyebrow, aware that Jim was probably right. Though he understood the colloquialism, he derived a certain satisfaction from convincing Jim that he did not.

‘The ‘goss’, Captain?’

‘Yeah, you know. The lowdown. The scuttlebutt.’

‘Ah.’

‘And I’d be exactly the same in her position,’ Jim grinned, stowing the communicator in his belt. ‘Think she’ll want to come tomorrow? I think she will.’

‘I am certain that she will enjoy the chance to learn another language,’ Spock replied, barely a second before the doors to the turbolift opened, and Chekov announced Jim’s arrival.

‘Keptin on the Bridge!’

With a look that had been shared a hundred times before, Spock parted from Jim without speaking, diverging towards his station as Jim approached Nyota. As they were adjacent to one another, he could hear everything that was said, and he knew that Jim was aware of the fact.

‘Lieutenant,’ Jim began, leaning casually against her station.

Nyota eyed him as she would perhaps a younger brother – affection and exasperation all at once.

‘Captain.’

‘We’re beginning negotiations tomorrow morning, and I want you there.’ He held out the recording of their meeting between two fingers, and she plucked it from them. ‘It wasn’t a particularly long chat, but see what you can get out of it.’

‘Of course,’ she smiled, already slotting the recording card into her reader. ‘I’ve already received some preliminary language data to work with, and I’ve spent this morning refining the universal translator. What time is the briefing?’

‘0800,’ Jim yawned, a hand waving vaguely in front of his open mouth.

‘Who else is going?’

‘Spock, of course,’ Jim told her, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip as his eyes flicked over Spock’s face. ‘Giotto and Lewinsky too. That’s it.’

‘Yeah, a small group seems to be a good idea. I’ll be there.’

‘Great,’ Jim grinned, turning to Spock with a slighter gentler version. ‘Spock, are you staying here?’

Paralysed by Jim’s smile, he took a beat longer than usual to answer.

‘For the moment, yes.’

‘Great,’ Jim repeated softly, eyes lingering upon him as he moved towards the chair.

Spock’s breath stuttered from his lungs when Jim left; he hadn’t realised he had been holding it. As he turned back to his station, he caught Nyota’s amused gaze, but when he sent her an openly challenging look, she turned away with a smirk on her lips.

‘You don’t fool me,’ she breathed, quiet enough that no human would have been able to hear.

Despite all efforts to the contrary, Spock felt his cheeks heat.

Near the end of his shift, he requested to leave the Bridge early to visit the laboratory, where his chlorophyll experiment was still running. He trusted his ensigns to handle the monitoring correctly, but supervision was important, and besides, he wished to get as much data as they could before beaming down to Euridian. With a new planet to explore, it was likely that he would begin a number of new research projects in the coming days. After his recordings were complete, he exited the laboratory, and almost walked straight into Ensign Crusher, who was coming down the corridor. The boy’s Engineering performance had drastically improved since the removal of his two greatest tormentors from the department, and he seemed more content than he had previously, but Spock wished to verify that. He wasn’t sure if it was the Ensign’s age, or their kinship in experiencing harassment, but he felt unexpectedly protective.

‘Ensign, do you have a moment?’

Crusher flinched, but he nodded nonetheless. Spock steered him back into the laboratory, which was empty for the moment, and although the wall leading into the corridor was clear, it was soundproof enough that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

‘Have I… done something?’ the Ensign asked nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

‘Nothing negative that I am aware of,’ Spock replied, attempting awkwardly to calm him. ‘My purpose in bringing you here was to inquire as to your wellbeing. Have there been any further incidents of harassment?’

Crusher brightened, his shoulders relaxing as he realised that he wasn’t to be reprimanded.

‘Thankfully, no, sir. Things aren’t perfect, but those who don’t like me leave me alone, for the most part.’ He smiled at Spock with a confidence that Spock had never previously witnessed. ‘Thanks for asking, sir. And thanks for helping me with those two. Sometimes I wish I’d said something before.’

Spock experienced an unexpected throb of empathy, attempting to repress his own memories that were beginning to surface.

‘I… understand your hesitancy. Though you are correct that the situation might have been resolved earlier had you spoken out.’

Tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, Crusher nodded, a small, humourless smile flitting over his lips.

‘Yeah, I suppose it would. But things are a lot better now.’

Before Spock could reply, the doors slid open, and he turned to see Jim knocking redundantly upon the frame.

‘Can I come in a sec?’

Spock nodded, and Jim entered with a smile, starting when he noticed Ensign Crusher.

‘God, I didn’t see you there, Jacob.’ His voice softened, and Spock could see quite clearly his affection for the boy. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Yeah, everything’s good, sir,’ Crusher said shyly, tipping his head toward Spock. ‘Commander Spock has just been asking.’

‘Is that so?’

As Jim’s soft spot for Crusher was visible, so too was his appreciation, and Spock was breathless beneath his dazzling smile.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re good, and if anything else happens, you can come to either of us, okay? Anything else, Mister Spock?’

‘That is all I wished to say,’ Spock said quietly, gesturing to the door. ‘You are dismissed, Ensign.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Crusher left with a respectful nod to them both, and in the wake of his departure, Spock looked to his Captain.

‘Thanks for checking up on him for me,’ Jim smiled, sincerity ringing through in his voice. ‘I really appreciate that.’

‘It was no trouble, Captain.’

‘It’s _Jim,_ Spock, please. Anyway, I came to find you to see if you wanted to go to the Mess.’

Although it was a statement, Jim’s voice rose hopefully in pitch as if it were a question, and Spock found that he could not deny him.

‘I am free to do so,’ he acquiesced, allowing Jim to lead him back out of the laboratory. ‘I will not linger, however. I have a number of reports to complete later.’

‘So have I!’ Jim chirped, sounding strangely enthusiastic about it. ‘We can do them together.’

Spock did not argue. As the weeks went by, his resolve was weakening, and he hated himself for it. After his atrocious behaviour upon their first journey together, he should have been grateful for their good professional relationship, and even more so, their friendship. This deep affection, far deeper than it should have been, might one day drive him to push his unwanted desires upon Jim – a thought which he considered abhorrent. Not only would it destroy the partnership they had on the Bridge, but their closeness off-duty as well, and the very idea made him nauseous. Yet Jim was bright, and beautiful, and Spock felt drawn to him like a planet to its sun, the gravity of him inescapable. He could not distance himself any longer.

‘Of course, Captain.’

When they had retrieved their food – salad for Spock, and stir fry for Jim – they were signalled over to a table where Nyota, Mister Scott, and Lieutenant Sulu were already sitting.

‘How’s it going, guys?’ Jim said loudly, all but throwing his tray down on the table as he sat.

Spock followed rather more sedately, exchanging a warm look with Nyota as he took his place beside Jim. There were various overlapping replies to Jim’s question, before the topic of conversation turned to Euridian, and the negotiations that would begin the next day.

‘Did they agree to change the meeting location?’ Sulu asked, picking at his lasagne.

Jim shook his head, to which Sulu sighed, his exasperation echoed privately within Spock.

‘I understand their perspective, but Pirilia’s a ticking timebomb. A massive population, the seat of government, and the figurehead of the new regime all at once… what a nightmare.’

‘You need to be careful when you go down,’ Mister Scott insisted. Spock could not help but notice that his attention was firmly on Nyota when he said, ‘All of you.’

‘We’ll do our absolute best,’ Jim breathed, his eyes flicking strangely over the others and their plates on the table before he picked up his fork. A second later, Spock realised exactly why that was, and he felt a wave of anger and protectiveness rise within, wishing that he had the ability to reassure Jim in public. His hand curled in the fabric of his trousers in the effort not to reach out in full view of the others, but he did attempt to demonstrate his understanding in the look he gave Jim; a look which was received with a tiny smile. While the others seemed oblivious, Nyota was looking curiously between them, to which Spock shook his head discreetly, aware that attention in this way would make Jim uncomfortable. In an effort to distract, he spoke:

‘There’s a briefing at 0800 tomorrow, Mister Scott. It may be beneficial for you to attend.’

‘Aye, I’ll be there,’ Scott agreed, frowning as his communicator beeped.

‘Gotta go?’ Nyota asked resignedly, to which Scott nodded, his eyes never leaving his communicator.

‘Keenser,’ he muttered, distracted. ‘I’ll see you all tomorrow.’

Nyota seemed rather put out by his preoccupation, but Spock was certain that it was not a lack of reciprocation on Mister Scott’s part. After all, he was often to be found with his attention solely upon her, and he welcomed her company off-duty with a frequency that showed promise. Unable to express his sympathies among the others lest he make public her feelings, he merely added his goodbye to the sound of the others’, resolving to speak with her regarding Scott in the coming days.

‘I know it’s probably not worth saying, but I’ve got a bad feeling about these negotiations,’ Sulu said tightly, his jaw set.

‘So do I, Hikaru,’ Jim sighed, picking through his vegetables. ‘There are a lot of things that could go wrong, and while I’m hoping they _don’t,_ if I tell you to get the hell out of dodge, I expect you to obey immediately. Four hundred lives aren’t worth five.’

Nobody spoke for a moment, so serious was Jim’s request. Then, Sulu looked up from his plate, his voice as grave as his Captain’s.

‘Of course, sir.’

They sat in solemn silence for the remainder of the meal, Sulu and Nyota peeling off once they had finished. Jim, who had been playing with his food for a while, placed his fork down at the same time as Spock, eyes darting towards him.

‘I don’t feel too great. Do you want the rest of this?’

‘No, thank you, Jim,’ Spock replied politely, concerned as to his wellbeing. Before he could inquire about it, however, Jim had already spoken.

‘Are you sure?’ His hand trembled infinitesimally as he reached for his fork, a growing agitation becoming clear. ‘I… I don’t like food waste. I can eat it, don’t worry.’

‘James,’ Spock said softly, stilling his hand with a gentle touch. ‘The food that is disposed of here is recycled in its entirety. You are not wasting food, nor are you denying anybody else food by leaving what you cannot eat. There is, and there will always be, plenty of food aboard the Enterprise.’

Jim was visibly sweating, but he gave Spock a jerky nod, moving to take hold of his plate. Spock denied him the difficulty, disposing swiftly of the remainder of both of their meals before returning to him.

‘I believe we have reports to complete, Captain.’

‘Joy,’ Jim quipped, though he remained pale. ‘My quarters, then? I’ve got the bigger desk.’

‘As you wish,’ Spock acquiesced, following sedately as Jim let them back to his room.

The reports, as usual, were numerous. Even more so today, as the preparation for the Euridian mission had caused Jim to temporarily leave non-essential work aside, and Spock expected Jim to bemoan the amount and tedium of the work he had remaining. Sure enough, the complaints came, but they were fewer than usual, and lacklustre besides. Spock got the impression that Jim was embarrassed about their earlier interaction in the Mess, but he did not know quite how to reassure him without further causing him distress. As fate would have it, Jim himself addressed the issue once their work had been completed.

‘Thanks for helping me out with the food before, Spock.’ Jim’s knuckles of the hand resting upon the table went white as he clenched his fists in apparent frustration. ‘I know it’s pathetic for a ’Fleet Captain to be behaving like that.’

‘It is not pathetic at all,’ Spock refuted, putting down his pen. ‘It is more than understandable that the wastage of food would cause you distress, considering what you have been through.’

Jim shook his head – perhaps not in disagreement, but in agitation. He stood, muscles vibrating with tension, and began to pace in a way that Spock had witnessed many times before.

‘It’s been more than a decade. I shouldn’t still have these ridiculous complexes. They’re stupid and irrational, and-and-’

He cut himself off, trembling violently as he froze in place. With an aching chest, Spock rose, an overwhelming urge to embrace him taking over all rational thought. His Captain, his _Jim_ , was curled in on himself as if in physical pain, clearly in need of comfort, and all of Spock’s long-repressed instincts urged him to provide it. As if acting of their own volition, his hands caught hold of Jim’s forearms, and slid up to rest over his biceps, squeezing gently.

‘You experienced trauma of which I have never seen the like,’ he murmured, making sure to catch his eye. ‘You survived, but even more extraordinarily, you have thrived, and after all that has befallen you, I am not surprised that your struggle with food lingers.’

Jim’s eyes filled, but he blinked hard, looking down.

‘Beyond losing you… you guys, it’s my worst fear, and I hate it. There are replicators in almost every room of this ship, and masses of food reserves besides – I know that. I know that even if those ran out, we would have ample time to travel to the nearest Starbase or planet and restock, but rationality just goes completely out of the window when food’s involved.’

Spock could not contain himself any longer. Hyper-aware of any resistance that Jim might make, he slowly drew him into an embrace, barely repressing the bone-deep shudder that rattled through him as he finally felt Jim’s body against his. But this was not for his benefit. This was for Jim, and as he pulled him tighter against his chest, lips ghosting over his temple, he heard a little choked-off whimper vibrate in his ear. The sound only made him hold Jim closer, sliding a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘I hate it,’ Jim whispered, clutching at him. ‘I hate that it can still affect me, after all these years. I panic if I miss a meal, even though I know I can always get it from somewhere. I… I _hoard_ it sometimes after we’ve been on shore leave, just in case. I’m not weak, Spock.’

His voice broke, and Spock hushed him softly, hoping that he was providing adequate comfort.

‘I know that, and so does the entirety of your crew.’ He drew back slightly, enough to see his expression. ‘You are safe here, Jim.’

Jim’s eyes were bright with tears, that mesmerising blue fixed upon him, searching for something, but for exactly what, Spock was uncertain. His breath was unsteady, so close that Spock could taste it, and as he stared down at Jim in the circle of his arms, all that he could think about was that he very much wanted to kiss him. Pairing his fingers, Spock gently traced a Vulcan kiss over the nape of his neck, aware that Jim was likely oblivious to the significance of what he was doing. Jim’s hand fisted in the back of his tunic, lips softened and parted, and although Spock knew that he was already taking liberties with his hand, he could not help but imagine what it would be like to kiss Jim in the human way.

‘Spock,’ Jim breathed, drawing his gaze up and away from that beautiful mouth.

His eyes were half-lidded, a soft flush painting his cheekbones, and Spock’s desire to love him reached a tipping point. The hand that was smoothing Vulcan kisses over Jim’s skin slid round to mould against his cheek, his fingers trembling finely as he finally let his wanting win. It seemed that they had both stopped breathing. Spock was frozen, but the tiny, broken noise that escaped from Jim’s throat spurred him on, and he shivered as he fingered the shallow curve of Jim’s outer ear, slowly beginning to lean in.

Before his intentions could become too apparent, there was a shrill ringing noise, and Jim’s head whipped round, shooting him an apologetic look when he realised what it was.

‘That’ll be Sam. He’s… he’s got a little one on the way. Aurelan’s – his wife’s – due date is pretty soon.’

Spock released him immediately, alarmed at how close he had been to making his shameful feelings known. Had he truly been offering comfort, or had he been about to take advantage of Jim’s vulnerable state? As Jim floundered, looking uncertainly between him and the computer, Spock reached out once more to lightly squeeze his forearm in reassurance.

‘Perhaps your sister-in-law has given birth,’ he suggested, stepping back. His heart squeezed in his side at Jim’s lost look. ‘You should answer the comm. We will speak tomorrow when we return from negotiations.’

Jim nodded hesitantly, his lips twitching into a smile before he turned away to answer the call.

‘Hey, Sammy. You okay?’

Spock was already walking through the bathroom, his heart racing. He was dizzy with desire, aching to return to Jim and kiss him, touch him, make love to him. Yet he was also ashamed, and somewhat fearful that he had potentially ruined the relationship he already had with Jim. He had almost given into his longing, and if his brother’s call had not interrupted, Spock was quite certain that he would have declared his intentions.

Lighting his candles, Spock folded himself into a meditative position, and recalled the moments before his exit. Jim had not pulled away from him, even when it must have become apparent that Spock was intending to kiss him. Perhaps it was his own hopeful imagination, but considering Jim’s reaction… could he possibly reciprocate his feelings? Or had he taken advantage of his tearful, tactile friend, who often sought physical comfort in emotional crises? As he closed his eyes and began to relax his shields, Spock attempted to settle his conflicting feelings for Jim. He could not. The looming possibilities of the day to come, both diplomatic and personal, prevented him from doing so. Amongst his compressible, manageable daily emotions, and his growing love and desire, he was afflicted by very human nerves.

The next morning, Spock reached the briefing room uncharacteristically early, even for him. He had woken at 0500, unable to return to sleep, and had also been unable to eat as of yet. Alone at first, he was soon joined by the security officers and Mister Scott, then Nyota and Jim, who looked remarkably well-rested, considering his current sleep issues. Spock could not help but watch him, hoping that in the intensity of his gaze, he would display his intentions. Throughout the briefing, he found that Jim’s eyes met his more often than usual, though the expression within them was indecipherable. Their near-kiss the night before consumed his thoughts, and although he made certain to take in the relevant information regarding the Euridians, it was Jim himself upon which his attention lingered. The heat of his skin, the softness of his hair, the feel of his body within Spock’s arms; all of this Spock recalled with clarity and affection. He did not wish Jim to be as upset as he had been the night before ever again, but he would make certain that Jim knew he cared nonetheless.

As the briefing drew to a close, Spock experienced anxiety once more, but also a growing anticipation. Tonight, when the first day’s negotiations were over, he and Jim would be able to talk about the evening previous, and Spock intended to be honest. Deception did not sit well with him. He still had many reservations – and, if he were to be honest with himself, fears – about his own worth as a prospective partner for Jim, and Jim’s true feelings, but he could not contain it any longer. Jim, his beloved friend, meant more to him than anyone living, his father aside. With him, Spock had gained acceptance, and trust, and so much affection; he would never again doubt the human capacity to love.

The room began to clear, and Jim left after a warm, lingering glance in his direction, a promise of what was yet to come. Inadvertently, Spock was one of the last to exit, and when only he and Nyota remained, he started at a touch to his arm. Nyota was looking over at the abandoned communicator on the table, and instead of retrieving it like he expected her to, she remained with him, her eyes alight with excitement.

‘That’s Monty’s comm. He’ll come back for it.’

‘Perhaps,’ Spock replied, confused as to her train of thought.

Indeed, there soon came the sound of footsteps in the corridor, and Nyota drew him closer, turning his attention back to her.

‘We’re close, but he doesn’t seem to notice how I feel,’ she whispered urgently, eyes darting towards the doors. ‘I think I need to give him a push. Spock, this is going to seem ridiculous to you, but… play along, will you?’

Without warning, as the doors opened to admit the returning crewmember, Nyota pulled him unexpectedly into a chaste kiss, which Spock hastened to end. As he pulled away, intent on questioning her about her actions, there came a soft, broken sound that made the hair rise on the back of his neck. Turning, he was horrified to discover Jim shaking in the doorway, his eyes brimming with tears. Spock went cold.

‘Jim, I did not-’

‘Jim, it wasn’t-’ Nyota chimed in.

Jim held up a hand, and Spock’s gorge rose as he saw the deadness in his eyes, normally so bright with humour and excitement. With an ashen face, and an expression of utter devastation, he turned and fled.

‘Jim. Jim, _wait!’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that couldn't have gone any worse for Spock, could it? The good news is that I have an almost coherent plan as to what's coming next... the bad news is that you guys might have to wait 3 weeks to read the next chapter. I'm hellishly busy in the coming weeks, so it might be Friday 24th instead of Friday 17th that I post the next. We'll see how it goes, but as always, I'll keep you posted on my [tumblr](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, despite my little cliffhanger there! Please comment/leave kudos for me if you did, and I hope everyone enjoys their weekend :)


	7. The Bleeding Drops Of Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I just wanted to set the record straight about the end of the last chapter, because a few people have mentioned the scene after the meeting. First of all, I love Uhura. She’s a great character, and while I’m not a big fan of the Spock/Uhura relationship, that won’t stop me from having them be friends in fics. As for the mistake she made in the last chapter – that’s all I intended it as. A split-second decision, unplanned, and a mistake that she regrets. Like I said in the comments of the last chapter – I don’t think that makes her a bad person, just human. Idk, maybe I’m putting myself in her shoes a little bit too much, because while I doubt I’d ever be in a similar situation, I’m prone to messing up when doing things without thinking, just like that. TLDR; Uhura is awesome, but not infallible, and I don’t mean to portray her as anything but.
> 
> And with that all said, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jim had come undone.

The pain he felt was dull and heavy, pulsing sluggishly through his veins with every stuttering heartbeat, and as he staggered through the corridors towards the transporter room, he felt like his legs might collapse beneath him. He wanted to hide himself away, to scream and sob at the unfairness of it all, but he had a job to do, and despite his utter desolation, he’d be damned if he would let it affect his Captaincy. He was walking with such speed that he was practically running by the time Spock caught up with him, his breath catching as he struggled to keep himself under control.

‘Jim, please-’

‘Save it, Commander,’ Jim hissed, voice thickened, despite all his intentions, with the misery he could hardly repress. ‘I only ask that you conduct your personal business outside of duty hours.’

‘It is not my personal business,’ Spock said hurriedly, sounding strangely desperate. ‘Please, Jim-’

‘I haven’t got time for this,’ Jim snapped, slamming his hand down on the transporter room door release.

When he was admitted, he directed all of his attention towards organising the landing party, the ache within only growing with every deflected excuse. Sick of hearing them speak, he silenced a flushed, guilty-faced Uhura with a sharp command, ordered Spock to prepare for beaming, and took his place at the front of the group. Heartbroken, he was angry with Spock, angry with Uhura, but above all, angry with himself. After all, he’d never been promised a damn thing. Avoiding those pleading, beautiful dark eyes, he gave a rather confused-looking Scotty the order to beam them down to Pirilia.

They materialised in a courtyard before a grand, but damaged building, the ornate entryway and marbled walls pockmarked with holes and dents from warfare. The large wooden doors opened as Jim stepped forward, and Eana approached with her arms open, a wide, sharp-toothed smile on her elfin face. The guards at her side fanned out, their weaponry large and plentiful.

‘Welcome to Euridian,’ the translator said pleasantly, and despite his own internal agony, Jim forced an answering smile as genuine as he could muster.

‘Thank you. It is an honour to be here.’

Eana bowed her head in acknowledgement, sweeping her arm out in a grandiose gesture.

‘Come, let us be-’

A scream shattered the quiet courtyard, setting blood pumping in Jim’s ears. Some of the guards went running towards the source of the sound, and Jim was quick to follow, preventing Spock from doing the same with an authoritative open palm.

‘Stay here, Spock. Giotto with me!’

The two of them pounded after the guards, through a crumbling open archway, and in the seconds between their exit from the courtyard and catching up with the stilled guards, Jim’s world collapsed for the second time that day. From nowhere came a sound so deafening that Jim thought his eardrums might have exploded, and he was knocked forcefully to the ground by a shockwave strong enough to send him skidding a few metres on his back, a cloud of sand and detritus invading his mouth and choking him. Barely conscious, he tried weakly to protect his head, but in amongst the tiny assaults of gravel and dust, something came tumbling from the wall behind him, cracking him so forcefully on the crown that he screamed wetly through the blood pooling in his mouth. The blackness that ensued was an unexpected mercy.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

It was maddening. The tap must be leaking again, and Frank always left it to him to fix things. No doubt he’d be dragged out of bed by his hair to do something about it if he didn’t get up now, so it was probably be best to pre-empt that. But last night’s beating had left him so sore…

Awareness returned to Jim incrementally, his body screaming in protest as he stretched, coughing up sand and blood and what felt like half of his lung mass to boot. God, he didn’t think that Bones would have left him in pain like this. One ear felt like it was plugged with cotton wool, the incessant dripping dampened on that side, and there was pain _everywhere_ – in his back, his legs, his tongue. The worst of it was in his pounding head, and in his left arm, where a sharp, jagged pain signified that it was almost definitely broken. Lifting heavy eyelids, Jim surveyed his dim surroundings. The room was cold and damp, the floor hard beneath him, and when he moved his unbroken arm, he heard the rattle of chains. Great. As if his day hadn’t been bad enough.

He was sat propped up against the wall, his legs straight out in front of him, and when he shifted, he felt his back on fire. He must have ripped it up when he went skidding along the floor… oh God. The bomb. His crew! Jim’s breath came faster as he considered the probability that they were injured, or worse. His mind returned unerringly to Spock, to the man he loved despite all the hurt he had caused, and agony of a more internal kind shot through him at the thought of the bomb having done him harm. He hoped to God that he was the only one that had been taken.

Wincing, he reached his unbroken arm over to feel out his bonds, and frowned when he felt the thickness of the metal. The manacles were smooth, and hummed slightly, suggesting a more advanced containment system than mere lock and key. They were snug around his wrists, and the chains were firmly attached, the links cool and sturdy – chrondite or nitirium, maybe. Though he could taste blood, he thought (hoped) that it was coming from his stinging tongue, and while he couldn’t say whether there was anything more sinister going on internally, for the most part, he seemed pretty much okay. For now. His eyes were adjusting slowly to the blackness of the room, but it seemed like there was relatively little to see; there was something propped up in the corner that looked too much like a bucket for Jim’s liking, but nothing much besides.

When the sound of footsteps came echoing through the cell, Jim tried, despite the agony in his back, to sit as upright as possible. His phaser might have been taken, and his officers might have been gone, but he would damn well face his attackers with his game face on. In spite of the modern manacles, there was still the sound of an old-fashioned key turning in a lock, and Jim struggled to his feet in order to greet the trio of Euridians that entered. For a moment, only their shadows were visible in the light streaming through the doorway, but then the lights flickered on – painfully. Jim squinted in the newfound brightness, a hand shielding sensitive, burning eyes, and wasn’t surprised one iota when he saw who seemed to be in charge.

‘Good afternoon, Captain,’ Faeral said warmly, the nasty smile playing about his lips revealing his true nature.

‘Where is my landing party?’ Jim gritted out, not in the mood for pleasantries.

Faeral’s smile flickered, and then the answer was echoing unnervingly inside Jim’s head.

_Don’t worry, Captain. They’re all safe and sound up on your ship. It’s you we wanted._

Relief hit him in the gut at the admission; Faeral had no reason to lie about that. Their focus on him was, however, unnerving.

‘The Federation doesn’t respond to ransom requests,’ he said smoothly, making sure he sounded far more composed than he felt. ‘You’re wasting your time.’

Again, that shark-like smile.

‘We shall see.’

Despite the brave face he put on, Jim felt his insides shrivel at the sight of that horrible grin, an animal fear rising inside him. Faeral regarded him like Spock might one of his experiments, a veiled, ominous kind of excitement, and gestured for one of the guards to hand him a tray of food.

‘Go ahead,’ he encouraged, when Jim merely stared at the unappetising slop before him. ‘I haven’t poisoned it.’

When Jim continued to stare, Faeral sighed dramatically, throwing his arms up in the air.

‘Suit yourself. But I’d eat and sleep if I were you, Captain.’

He ushered his guards out, then turned back to look Jim straight in the face, his piggy eyes narrowing.

_I’ve got plans for you._

The final whisper curled through Jim’s mind in a pseudo-caress that made him shudder. _Get out,_ he wanted to say, but he found that he couldn’t speak, his tongue pressed into his palate by some unknown force. When Faereal left, it came unstuck, and his breath rushed from him in a shuddering sigh. Tipping his head back against the wall, he allowed himself a moment of self-pity, but then determination returned with a vengeance. If he couldn’t get out, he’d damn well make sure that they didn’t get any intel out of him, whatever their torture tactics were. They’d left the lights on, which gave Jim the chance to examine his bonds; they were chrondite, as he’d suspected, and seemed distressingly strong. The chains might be long enough to entrap someone, but what then? There was no way he’d be able to separate them from the manacles with his bare hands, and apart from the bucket, there was nothing in here to scavenge from.

Sighing in frustration, Jim pulled the tray of slop towards him, surprised that they’d given him a spoon to use. There was no reason for it to be poisoned, considering that they’d taken him hostage, so he shovelled half of the tasteless mess into his mouth, grimacing at the texture. Determined not to think about what Faeral would have in store for him, Jim’s thoughts turned to the crew… and Spock. Last night, Spock had been so tender, so loving, and Jim was _sure_ that he’d been about to kiss him. Maybe that was wishful thinking, though. He’d always been a tactile creature, always craved the love and affection that he’d been starved of for so long, and sometimes he saw things he wanted to see. Still, the absolute devastation he’d felt when he saw Spock and Uhura kissing was undeniable. The hope within him had died with a sickening lurch, and he didn’t know what sound he had made as his body convulsed with pain, but it had been enough for Spock to look up. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but that was a lie. He loved Spock. He loved Spock so much he’d die for him, and despite his horrifying discovery that morning, he knew Spock would do the same.

In lieu of anything else to do, and after the warning he’d been given by Faeral, Jim slowly shifted his broken body until he was lying on his side. He catnapped for a while, his usual insomnia magnified tenfold by the unfamiliar environment and his unhealed injuries, but within a few hours, he had some unwelcome guests. Forcing himself upright, he suppressed a cry as he caught his broken arm, and faced the door with a neutral expression. Faeral was alone this time - whether because he had determined that Jim posed little threat to him, or because he didn’t trust his guards, Jim wasn’t sure. He tried not to tense as Faeral approached, anticipating the pain that was sure to follow. He’d been in this situation enough times for a pattern to have emerged.

‘Good evening, Captain. I trust you followed my earlier instructions?’

Jim said nothing, irritated by the patronising tone. He watched with narrowed eyes as Faeral approached, crouching before him with an unreadable expression.

‘Let me make myself clear. My family are the rightful rulers of this planet. The pretender Eana is a weakling who turned the tide with a stroke of luck, but she will not be there for much longer. My people do not want your Federation.’

‘Funny that Euridian contacted us, then,’ Jim said scathingly, watching Faeral’s face darken with a coiling of his stomach.

‘Eana and her puppets contacted you. _My_ people, the true Euridians, are content without your interference, and without your bargaining.’

‘If you want nothing to do with the Federation, then why am I here?’ Jim challenged, his back screaming with protest as he reared forwards.

‘There are a number of purposes you might yet serve,’ Faeral smirked, his gaze crawling over Jim excitedly. ‘Warning, example… bargaining chip.’

‘I’m _telling_ you, the Federation doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.’

‘Perhaps not usually. But for Captain James T Kirk, saviour of his ship, Earth, and many planets besides? Can you imagine the media furore if you were abandoned?’

Jim could, actually, but he wasn’t about to let him know that. He also wasn’t about to let himself be used to hold the Federation by the balls; he’d kill himself first. Raising an eyebrow in his best imitation of Spock, he tried to project an illusion of calm – his inner turmoil notwithstanding. Wearing an ugly smile, Faeral reached forward and took his shoulder in a tight grip. Jim tried to shrug him off, but his fingers dug bruise-deep into the bone, sending sparks of pain through Jim’s damaged body.

‘But first,’ Faeral murmured, a wicked glint in his eye. ‘I want to know what I’m working with.’

The hand on Jim’s shoulder tightened impossibly, and as he met Faeral’s eyes, there came an invasion so rough that Jim howled in pain. His mind tore through Jim’s like a windstorm, a careless, agonising violation that left him exposed and vulnerable. Jim tried not to think about all the Starfleet secrets he knew, tried to bury them deep and turn his ravaged mind to something else, but he wasn’t sure it had worked. All his personal tragedies, all his worst memories were dredged up and rifled through, and when Faeral retreated, Jim sagged against the wall, exhausted. He didn’t have the strength to hold his head up, so it hung heavy over his lap. He could smell and taste iron.

Though it repulsed him to be touched, he couldn’t stop Faeral hooking a finger under his chin to lift his head up. He glared as best he could at the bastard, watching his self-satisfied smile grow as blood dripped from Jim’s nose onto the ground below.

‘Well, that’s very interesting, isn’t it? What a sad little life you’ve had.’

Jim’s jaw clenched, but he had no retort to give.

‘Even sadder still are your feelings for your subordinate… Spock?’

Shock and misery jolted through Jim at the sound of his name, though he tried his best to keep a straight face. It was difficult to scramble for composure when the very heart of him was exposed, but this wasn’t the first disadvantaged situation he’d ever been in, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

‘Did you think he’d reciprocate?’ Faeral mocked, letting Jim’s head drop. ‘A _Vulcan?’_

Regaining a little strength, Jim looked him defiantly in the eye, drawing his hands into fists.

‘What the hell do you know about Vulcans when you’re not interested in the Federation?’

‘We know his kind,’ Faeral said softly, menace behind his tone. ‘As we know yours.’

He stood, and Jim watched with hatred in his eyes as he drew a scrap of cloth from the pocket of his robes, throwing it down in front of him.

‘Clean yourself up, will you? You’re dripping on my floor.’

Stubbornly, Jim refused to pick up the cloth until after Faeral had walked through the cell door, his voice floating back through to him.

‘I shall see you tomorrow, Captain. We have quite a lot of work to do.’

Once he was gone, Jim reached forward with shaking fingers to grasp the cloth and wipe his nose, if only to avoid the blood dripping onto his already filthy clothes. Alone – and apparently unobserved, considering the lack of any sign of recording equipment – he allowed his eyes to well with bitter tears, hating everything about his situation. Hadn’t the universe punished him enough today, without letting the torture game begin? He was still devastated from this morning, still hurt and ashamed and angry, but beyond that, he couldn’t help but worry about whether Spock was okay. Sure, Faeral had said they didn’t have him, but what if he’d lied, and he had them all, and was doing the same to them? Jim trembled at the thought of Spock’s mind being invaded, knowing that he was capable of putting up resistance, but also that resistance to someone like Faeral could be dangerous.

Even if the others weren’t here, Jim had no way of knowing whether the bomb that had knocked him out was the only one, whether the others had survived at all. After all, Faeral was quite clearly after Eana’s head, and considering the body count of the last six months, Jim was sure that collateral damage wasn’t something that mattered to him. He could only hope that the others were okay, hope that they were back on the ship, hope that they were looking for him, and that they found him before he could give away all the secrets he knew to this maniac.

Briefly forgetting about his broken arm, Jim tried to lie on his left side, then yelped as his body gave him a painful warning. He groaned as he shifted round, dragging forth the abandoned tray with the tips of his fingers until he could take a sip of the stagnant water, determined to save the rest. He fought with himself for a moment over the food, the dormant panic of starvation and rational thought warring fiercely, but then survival training won out, and he pushed it away again.

The cell was cold and dark, and Jim shivered in the wake of the air that Faeral had let in during his departure, curling up on his right side instead. He wanted to make sure his crew was safe, to find Uhura and Giotto, and Lewinsky, and reassure himself that they were well. He wanted Bones to fix up his throbbing arm, his stinging back, all his cuts and scrapes, and he wouldn’t even complain about the hypos. But most of all, he wanted to be in Spock’s arms, warm and safe, away from this fascist and his psychopathic games. Though that had been proven to be the most unlikely of all three, the fantasy he conjured up was enough to block out some of the pain, allowing him to sleep. And if the fantasy was transparent enough that he found tears pooling on the hard ground beneath his head – well, there was no one there to see his shame.

* * *

 

Day?

Night?

Who knew what time it was when he jerked awake to the sound of the cell door slamming open? Euridian’s two suns rose and set at different times, so the dim light outside provided few clues to the hour when Faeral came striding in, forcing Jim’s gritty eyes open. Again, he’d brought a tray of slop, and dumped it beside the other, looking at Jim with something like amusement.

‘I doubt you’d respond to food deprivation, would you, Jim?’ he asked with a smirk, gesturing towards the half-eaten food. ‘No matter how much it frightens you.’

Jim returned his gaze resentfully, dragging himself upright. God, it hurt even worse than yesterday, if that was possible.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want a lot of things,’ Faeral said flippantly, wandering back and forth as if he were making a presentation. ‘I want my kingdom back. I want to know what Eana and her pretenders are doing, what their plans are. I want to know all that _you_ know about Starfleet and your precious Federation, should they ever come knocking at my door again.’

He stopped his pacing abruptly, and dropped into a crouch before Jim, his robes pooling around him.

‘I could force it out of you, but that can get a bit messy. _Dead_ messy, if you know what I mean.’

‘Go to hell!’ Jim spat, lashing out with his undamaged hand. His fist met Faeral’s jaw with a resounding crack, the force of the punch snapping his head to the side, and finally getting rid of that nasty smirk.

He felt a thrill of fear as Faeral spat purple-red blood on the floor and turned to him with an ugly scowl, razor-sharp teeth bared like a feral dog.

‘You’ll regret that,’ he snarled, gripping Jim by the hair and pulling him up against the wall.

Jim hissed in pain, his shaky legs barely taking his weight as he was forced into a standing position, back arching. Faeral’s eyes were maddened, bright with something that made Jim’s skin crawl. He found himself immobilised beneath that crazed stare, as if his chains were wrapped around his whole body, and in a single blink, the world around him was gone. Cold dread suffused him when he recognised the dusty yard and dilapidated barn of his childhood home, the gravel below him poking uncomfortably into the soles of his shoes. Jim was alone here; or, at least, without Faeral. If this were an illusion, it was certainly realistic. The sun beat down upon him, the humid heat causing him to sweat almost immediately, his collar beginning to stick to the back of his neck. He still hurt, but this was a hurt of a different sort to what he experienced in the cell; not fresh trauma, but the ache of a two- or three-day old beating, sharply familiar.

‘Boy!’

The furious shout cut across the yard, draining the colour from Jim’s face. He knew that voice. So did his battered body. His blood turned to ice as Frank came pounding round the corner from the house, his face in the same contorted mask of rage that it had been the day Sam had left them. _Oh._ Jim tried to prepare himself to resist, to fight back, but he had no control over this body, and as Frank dragged him forward to smash a fist into his face, he could only relive the startling pain and the flood of blood into his mouth, his younger self struggling ineffectually against a much larger assailant. He felt searing pain in his scalp as Frank dragged him by his hair into the house, and threw him against the counter in the kitchen.

‘That was _my_ car!’ Frank snarled, slugging him in the stomach. _‘My_ property!’

‘No it wasn’t!’ Jim found himself shouting, stubborn to the last. He choked on the blood streaming from his broken nose, spraying it into Frank’s face as he yelled. ‘It was my dad’s!’

Through swelling eyes, he could see Frank’s expression grow even uglier, and he pulled tight at the collar of Jim’s shirt until he struggled for breath.

‘You’ve never had a dad, you stupid little fuck!’

Swinging his arm up, he lifted Jim bodily from the floor and hurled him backwards. The kitchen window broke beneath his weight, driving slivers of glass into his back and tearing through his exposed skin with knife-like proficiency, and Jim was howling before he even hit the floor. He landed on his arm, the impact breaking bone with a crack that sent agony searing through him; hot tears began to stream from his eyes. As he lay there in the glass and blood, clutching at his broken arm, Frank approached, his boots snapping the shards beneath him. Jim was quiet but for intermittent whimpers, and he held his breath when Frank pulled him up by his collar once more, his haggard face twisted with a grimacing smile.

‘You’re going to Tarsus IV, boy.’

Like a scene transition in a holo, the farmhouse and Frank melted away before Jim’s eyes, the fresh pain along with it, but Jim barely had time to draw breath before he found himself in another familiar, terrible place. Somehow, it felt even more real than the last; the rancid air, the barren landscape, the red skies visible through his bedroom window. If he had gone cold when he’d been thrown back to Riverside, now his blood was ice. He knew this place. He knew this moment. He could save them, if only he had control over himself, but once again, he found his body belonged to his past self. Frustration and nausea battered at him as he heard the unmistakeable sound of Aunt Grace’s footsteps hammering up the stairs, her wracking sobs audible over the thudding of her boots on hollow wood. By this time, Jim knew his cousins were gone, but Aunt Grace and Uncle Gabe – they could have escaped.

‘Jimmy!’ she choked, reaching out to cup his face in her shaking hands as she reached his room. She had blood smeared across her cheek. ‘Jimmy, you have to go, now!’

‘What do you _mean?’_ he heard himself whine, saw Aunt Grace shake her head in tearful desperation.

‘There’s no time, Jim, you need to go.’ She began shoving him towards the open window, which Jim often used to sneak out of the house. ‘Go now, sweetheart! Uncle Gabe and I will hold them off. I love you.’

Despite all his desperate attempts to override it, Jim found his traitorous body obeying her, letting her shove him towards the window with a kiss to his crown. He turned back when he was halfway out, when there was a screech of badly-oiled brakes outside, but she was already running, back towards the danger of the flashing phasers and bellowing men. He wished he’d said he loved her back, but it was too late now; even as he bolted into the dying cornfields with fear in his heart, he could hear her scream, the house behind him roaring aflame.

Trapped inside his own young body, Jim ran endlessly, choking on the rot of the crops and the smoke billowing from the fires alighting all around him, his lungs and legs burning with exertion. He heard parents screaming for their children, and children for their parents, but he was blind to all but the drooping corn until he tripped over something that sobbed. Wild with fear, he had half a mind to carry on, but the cries were not those of an adult. Pulling himself up off his knees, he scrambled over to the boy who lay curled up on the ground, quivering in a foetal position.

‘Kevin?’

The ball unfurled slightly to reveal a small, tear-streaked face, and large blue eyes that only filled further upon seeing Jim. Without warning, Kevin launched himself at him, skinny arms pulling tight around his middle.

‘Mommy’s dead!’ he wailed, and Jim shushed him out of both comfort and necessity, eyes darting left to right in their little sanctuary.

‘I’m sorry, Kev,’ he said thickly, feeling the burn of his own tears as he thought about his family. ‘Bad things are happening. We need to go and hide.’

Clearly overwhelmed, Kevin’s only response was to cry harder, so Jim pulled him to his feet and dragged him along, praying that they were going in the right direction. All the while, thick black smoke rolled over the cornfield, mixing with the stench of the ruined crops and something pungent that Jim didn’t want to think about, Kevin’s small hand in his the only thing keeping him going through his utter exhaustion.

‘Jimmy?’ came Kevin’s quavering voice. ‘Where’re we goin’?’

‘I don’t know, buddy. Somewhere safe.’

There was a wrenching pain originating from the back of his skull, and in a sudden flare that ripped the breath from his lungs, Jim found himself in the cell once more, face-down in the dirt. He knew that Faeral was there, but he had neither the strength nor the inclination to move yet, given the experience he’d just had. Nausea churned his stomach at the thought of being forced to relive the many memories he’d long since locked away, those even darker than what Faeral had begun with, and it took all his will not to simply vomit on the floor beneath him. He could still taste the acrid air of Tarsus, the loss of his aunt, uncle and cousins returning with a vengeance to haunt him.

‘I’d consider that a success, even if I do say so myself.’

Unlike the mad rage of before, Faeral’s voice was detached, as if he were a mere experiment to observe. Humiliated and in pain, Jim nonetheless managed with difficulty to sit up, his chest heaving as his sore back met the wall.

‘Conceited much?’

Faeral’s lips twitched, but not in the way that Spock’s would – this smile was hateful.

‘Is it a crime to be proud of one’s work, Captain?’ he asked, rhetorically, it seemed. ‘Now, are you going to tell me about Eana and your Starfleet?’

Jim glared at him with undisguised hatred, ignoring the insistent pain in his head as he got to his feet.

‘I know next to nothing about Eana and her government,’ he hissed, ‘and as for Starfleet, if you think I’m going to betray my crew, you’re as stupid as you look.’

As expected, Faeral’s neutral expression fractured, the smirk replaced by a curled lip and a brief baring of teeth.

‘You’re going to tell me what I need to know. The length of time that takes and the level of trauma you endure is entirely up to you.’

‘I have responsibility for over four hundred people,’ Jim bit out, feeling his knuckles split as he clenched his fist. ‘Unlike you, I will do whatever it takes to honour that responsibility.’

‘You know nothing of me, or my people,’ Faeral spat, kicking him viciously in the shin.

Jim bit back the cry that rose in his throat, taking a second or two longer than he might usually have done to straighten up from his flinch.

_‘Your_ people? If Euridian supported you, don’t you think the revolution would have failed?’

Clearly incensed, Faeral screwed his face up, so like a child having a tantrum that he might as well have stamped his foot. It was so absurd that Jim found his breath catching in the lead-up to a derisive laugh, but he stifled it at the very last moment.

‘Eana _manipulated_ them into believing they were oppressed. My family has ruled for centuries, parent to child, and has guided the populace through darkness into enlightenment. There have been no previous challengers to our rule.’

‘And why do you think that is?’ Jim said incredulously. So far, Faeral was proving himself either to be delusional, or just plain stupid. ‘Purges, executions, militaristic rule; people don’t like living in fear, Faeral.’

‘The only Euridians in danger were those who rejected our leadership,’ Faeral replied indignantly. ‘The populace should have been grateful for everything we did for them!’

‘Grateful? Power is a blessing… and a responsibility.’

‘So we should have dedicated ourselves to the people, is that it?’ Faeral sneered, as if the idea weren’t the galactic standard.

‘Yes!’ Jim said emphatically, wincing as his broken arm rejected his hand gesture. ‘Those _in_ command have a responsibility to those _they_ command, and how you treat your lowest-ranked, lowest-paid subordinates should be exactly the same as you treat your equals.’

Faeral snorted, and Jim pitied the people of Euridian for having suffered under his tyrannical family for so long.

‘I tire of your endless declarations of moral superiority.’ Faeral stepped forward, until they were only a few inches apart. Recoiling from him, Jim couldn’t help but notice the flash of sharp teeth once more. ‘Now, are you going to talk, or do I have to get… unpleasant?’

‘Have you got short-term memory loss?’

Faeral gave a humourless snort, his expression contemptuous.

‘So be it. We’ve already taken measures to prevent anyone finding you, but you do have one final traceable tie.’

His voice softened as he put pressure on Jim’s shoulder, enough for his knees to buckle.

‘You might want to sit for this. I promise you, it’s for your own good.’

Feeling somewhat mutinous, Jim refused to take his advice, pushing up against the hand that lay upon him. Faeral sighed, rolling his eyes as one might in reaction to a recalcitrant child.

‘Suit yourself,’ he hummed, his hand tightening claw-like as it had done the first time he had invaded Jim’s mind.

Jim found himself repressing a flinch, fear making the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect.

‘I’d say this won’t hurt a bit, but I’d be lying.’

Again, that careless, forceful invasion; again, that blinding agony. Though the surging black cloud that seeped into and spread throughout his mind left destruction in its wake, Faeral seemed to know exactly what he was searching for, ruthless and purposeful. A novice to his own psyche, Jim nonetheless knew when he had found it, because there was a triumphant exclamation from somewhere inside him, reverberating in a way that made his ears ring. In amongst the chaos, he saw a bright, golden thread stretching endlessly through the dark, and though he wasn’t sure what it was, he knew instinctively it was something he needed to protect.

_No,_ he choked, as the surging cloud spiralled rapidly round the thread. _No!_

_Luckily for me, Captain, it is fledging. Unfulfilled._

Confused, and with a growing sense of horror, Jim was powerless to prevent that dark grip tightening and tightening, until with a sickening rip, the beautiful thread was rent in two. The pain was immense. All the memories he had long repressed, the sources of his deepest shame and potent misery flooded to fill the void, each episode of Frank’s sadism and the brutality of Tarsus IV layering over each another in the absence of all he didn’t know he had. A scream of agony and unfathomable loss tore from Jim’s throat, his final impression before the stinging withdrawal that of satisfaction from Faeral. There was a great, terrible emptiness inside him, a gaping hole where once something beautiful had been, and a whine rose in Jim’s throat as his mind tried to process what had been lost. Something important. _Someone_ important. Sick with the pain in his head, Jim swayed before Faeral, watching with tunnelling vision as he walked away. He found his legs could no longer support him, and as light streamed in through the cell door, he fell to his knees, then to the floor, barely registering the contact his broken arm made with it as oblivion overtook him. He did not wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, after three weeks! In my defence, I'm working and volunteering full-time, and with everything that's gone on in the last few weeks, it's a miracle I managed to finish the chapter at all!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed, and if you did, please comment/leave kudos for me! I would also really appreciate it if those of you who are on tumblr could possibly reblog the chapter link I put up. Here's my [tumblr](https://pastmydancingdays) for anyone who wants to take a look, and the next chapter should hopefully be up in two weeks! Hope everyone has a great weekend :)
> 
> Next time: Spock's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day


	8. Stop All The Clocks

‘Stay here, Spock. Giotto with me!’

Jim’s order was difficult to follow. It was anathema for Spock to not be by his side, but his responsibility to the Euridians and the remainder of the landing party, along with the clarity of Jim’s unhappiness with him, prevented him from disobeying. Whilst the Euridian security team fanned out to protect Eana, Spock remained alert, ready to follow his Captain should the opportunity become available. He knew all too well Jim’s propensity for attracting danger, and it was one of very few things in life which he would admit to causing him stress. On either side of him, Nyota and Lieutenant Lewinsky had activated their phasers, and Spock’s forefinger readied upon the trigger of his own, certain that the negotiations would not be without violence.

His muscles grew tense as his body registered the sense that they were being watched, and the faint sound of footsteps drew his attention to the area just outside the courtyard. He turned with the intention of warning his crewmates of potential hostilities, but in that moment, a powerful shockwave and the deafening boom that accompanied it drove him to the ground with his hands over his ears. Like child separated from parent, for a long, dizzy moment, Spock was disorientated, primal fear pulsing in his hindbrain. When he gingerly removed his hands, his hearing could discern only static, though he knew there must be other sounds, for the bright light of phaser fire was flickering before his eyes, and there was blood, human and otherwise, spattered across the earth below.

_Human_ blood.

_Jim._

_Jim!_

Spock rarely panicked, and was even less likely to show it, but the realisation that their negative predictions had been fulfilled whilst Jim was out of sight filled him with such terrible dread that it drove him to his feet. His ears buzzed as he staggered upright, narrowly avoiding a burst of phaser fire as he located Nyota and Lewinsky, both rising themselves. Lewinsky seemed to be bleeding quite heavily, so Spock concentrated on defending him from their attackers, who were soon far outnumbered by the government forces emerging from the building behind them. As soon as he felt able to take his concentration from the fight, he motioned for Nyota’s communicator, his own shattered irreparably beneath his weight.

‘Spock to Enterprise.’

‘Scotty here.’

‘Beam up Lieutenants Uhura and Lewinsky,’ he ordered, his voice sounding muted and thick to his own ears. ‘Have a medical team on standby.’

‘Yessir,’ Scotty replied, and Spock pretended not to notice Nyota’s protesting look as they dematerialised, leaving only Spock and the Euridians behind. The firefight had died, their living attackers having fled, and Spock took the opportunity to begin limping towards where he had last seen his Captain, only now beginning to feel the pain of the shrapnel embedded in his thigh. He ignored it, even more frantic now that he had seen the bodies strewn about the courtyard.

‘Sir!’ one of the guards called, but he did not turn. ‘Commander, Eana is safe!’

‘My Captain, however, is not,’ Spock snapped, forcing his bleeding leg into action, and noting with veiled contempt that nobody came to aid him in his search.

The archways surrounding the courtyard had partially collapsed, enough that he could climb over with difficulty, but his view was still obstructed until he reached what had once been the boundary wall of the courtyard. It was crumbling, but still somewhat intact. His heart thumped rapidly in his side as he approached; Jim could not have gone much farther than this. He could hear no movement, no sound, and when he rounded the corner, the blood spattered upon the ground devastated him. There was too much for a superficial injury, and Jim was gone.

Fear gripped Spock, his breath shallow and harsh as he stared at the largest patch of red staining the gravel, one shaking hand reaching for his tricorder. It was illogical to wish for an outcome to be untrue, but when the analysis established that the blood did indeed belong to Jim, Spock wished that nonetheless. A low sound of distress left his lips as he scanned the horizon desperately, and upon finding no sign of Jim, concluded with a cold thrill of horror that he must have been taken by the supporters of the old regime. As he attempted to process that knowledge, unable to quash the lingering hope that Jim was merely hidden from sight, his communicator crackled.

_‘Spock?’_

‘Yes, Doctor?’ Spock replied dully, forcing the anxiety from his voice.

_‘What the hell’s goin’ on? Where’s Jim?’_

‘Jim is gone,’ Spock whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, he might choke upon the words. ‘He has been taken, I believe.’

There was a heavy pause on the other end of the comm unit, lengthy enough that Spock considered prompting him, but then the hard reply came through the communicator.

_‘I’m coming down.’_

It was testament to how fretful Spock was that he did not protest, and a few minutes later, Doctor McCoy was beside him, grim-faced and carrying a Medikit.

‘Lewinsky and Uhura are stable,’ he informed Spock, staring at the red-soaked ground. ‘Jim’s missing?’

Spock nodded shortly, holding one wrist with the hand of the other arm behind his back. It prevented the trembling from becoming too obvious.

‘Along with Lieutenant Commander Giotto.’

As he spoke, there was a moan originating from their left which set Spock’s heart racing. He hurried in that direction, only to skid to a halt beside a pile of rubble which had concealed Lieutenant Commander Giotto, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. Spock could not help the flash of disappointment that he felt, nor the guilt for feeling that way, as he quickly moved out of the way for Leonard to tend to him.

‘Giotto!’ McCoy called, tapping at his face with one hand and opening the Medikit with another. ‘It’s Doctor McCoy, can you hear me?’

‘Yeah,’ came the hoarse, whispered reply, and Giotto opened bleary eyes that fixed upon Spock.

‘Look at me for a moment,’ McCoy ordered, checking his pupil dilation. ‘Yeah, we’re fine.’

Giotto wetted his cracked lips, his attention still focused on Spock.

‘Where’s the Captain? There were… there were people.’

Spock’s chest squeezed, finally having to abandon the delusion that Jim was in the immediate vicinity.

‘What people?’

Giotto shook his head, wincing as he did so.

‘I-I don’t know. It was so fast, and I knocked my head. Euridians, maybe. Humanoid, definitely.’

It was as he had feared. Despite Giotto’s head trauma, it was possible that he knew more, but Spock wasn’t sure if the information would be of any use.

‘I gotta beam you up Giotto,’ McCoy interrupted with an apologetic look in Spock’s direction. ‘Your neuro signs read fine but that cut’s nasty, and I want to check you over. Spock will find-’

His eyes narrowed upon Spock’s thigh.

‘The hell’s wrong with your leg?’

‘Merely superficial damage,’ Spock said abruptly, ‘I will remain here to search for Jim.’

‘You will not,’ McCoy began, but Spock did not wish to hear another tirade.

‘I am Acting Captain in Jim’s absence, and as such-’

‘And _I’m_ CMO,’ McCoy cut in, ‘which means that I get the final say when you’re bleeding like that. What d’you think you can do down here anyway? He’s clearly not here anymore, as much as I want him to be.’

Spock wanted to argue, but Leonard’s scowl was not as forceful as usual, failing to adequately conceal the fear beneath. Inhaling deeply, he raised his communicator to his lips.

‘Spock to Bridge.’

‘Patel here, sir.’

‘I would like you to scan Pirilia for human life, and notify me immediately if there are any positive results.’

‘Yes sir,’ came the confused reply, and Spock, contrary to all his instincts and desires, asked Lieutenant Commander Scott to beam them up. When they arrived in the transporter room, he allowed Doctor McCoy and his patient to leave first, approaching Mister Scott once they had exited the room.

‘The Captain is missing,’ he murmured, fresh pain washing over him as he was forced to speak the words once more. Scott’s smile slid rapidly from his face, his complexion pallid, and Spock swallowed the lump that rose in his throat.

‘What can I do, sir?’

‘All I ask is that you listen for any distress calls he may make. I do not believe that he will be in possession of his communicator, as it appears that he has been kidnapped by Faeral and his terrorist faction, but there is a possibility that he may make contact in some other way. I also expect you to take temporary command, should the situation require it.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Scott nodded emphatically. ‘Anythin’ to help you or the Captain, sir.’

Spock did not doubt that that was true. Scott had proved many times over his devotion to both the ship and her Captain, and Spock knew that he could count on him to come to his aid in a difficult situation.

‘Thank you,’ Spock said quietly, leaving for Medbay in the wake of Mister Scott’s nod of acknowledgement. Crewmembers who might usually greet him in the corridors did not do so that day, and Spock could only assume that his facial expression was severe enough to repel them. He wished that he had had the opportunity to explain himself that morning, to reassure Jim that it was him Spock loved, that he wanted no other. It had been unfortunate timing, and a poor, if well-meaning decision on the part of Nyota, but to think that Jim believed they had rekindled their relationship made him feel ill. It was Jim that he desired, Jim that he wished to bond with, and Jim that now made fear twist in his stomach, his absence from Spock’s side strange and, above all, wrong.

He knew to the second the approximate duration of a city-wide scan, and yet he was impatient from the moment he set foot in Medbay, sitting grimly as Nurse Chapel removed the shrapnel from his thigh.

‘Your heartrate’s a little high,’ she remarked, her usual friendly chatter subdued.

‘A physiological reaction to situational factors,’ Spock replied, watching as Doctor McCoy moved on from Giotto to Lewinsky.

‘Yes, I heard that the Captain is missing.’ She closed the final cut with the dermal regenerator, handing him a fresh set of uniform trousers. ‘Anything you need, we’re here. The whole ship loves Jim.’

_Not as much as I,_ Spock thought, but would not say aloud. That confession was for Jim, and Jim alone.

‘I appreciate it.’

As he redressed, Nyota appeared at his side, her face crumpled in distress.

‘Is it true?’ she asked, her voice climbing in pitch. ‘Is Jim gone?’

Spock nodded, unwilling to speak lest he stumble. Nyota’s hand came up to cover her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, and Spock had to look away, concerned that he might follow her lead in his misery.

‘I… believe he was taken by the ruler of the previous regime.’

‘Are you going to the Bridge?’ When he nodded, she helped him to stand, following him out of the door even as Doctor McCoy protested. ‘I’m coming with you. We’re going to get him back, Spock, and when we do, I’m going to explain everything about this morning. I’m so sorry, Spock.’

‘You could not have known.’

His voice was weak, listless even, and he pretended not to notice Nyota’s look of concern as they entered the nearest turbolift.

‘Still, it wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, and I never got the chance to explain myself. He’ll-he’ll think we’re back together.’

Spock closed his eyes briefly, all too aware of that. He recalled the pain in Jim’s face, and the tears in his beautiful eyes, with deepest regret.

_‘Bridge to Commander Spock.’_

‘I will be there in a moment, Lieutenant,’ he replied, his heart beginning to flutter as the turbolift came to a halt. From the moment he stepped out, however, the expression on Patel’s face informed him that the search had not been a success. Spock’s stomach dropped. ‘I presume you found nothing.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Patel said nervously, showing him the monitor. His hand shook a little as he pointed out the readings, which Spock checked, and double-checked, finally accepting the miserable truth with a leaden stomach. To say that he was devastated would have been an understatement.

‘Understood. Lieutenant, I would like you now to perform a planet-wide scan, specifically searching for the Captain.’

The Bridge went suddenly silent, and Spock surveyed the crew’s solemn, worried, and fearful expressions with a grim set to his mouth.

‘My reasons for asking will become apparent in a moment,’ he said softly, feeling the weight of command already with discomfort. Leaning over Jim’s chair – he could not yet bear to sit in it – he activated a ship-wide comm link. ‘Attention all crewmembers. This is Commander Spock speaking. Many of you will be aware of the turbulent nature of our intended negotiations with the Euridian people, but what you may not know is that during first contact today, the Captain was taken by a rebel faction. I tell you this not to cause panic, or distress, but to simply keep you informed. I have every confidence in those whom are now working to find him, and should there be any progress, I shall keep you updated. I will be taking temporary command for now. Spock out.’

When he had finished speaking, there was a stillness about the Bridge that disconcerted him. Ensign Chekov had turned in his chair, looking at him with wide, sad eyes that made his heart spasm.

‘We are going to get him back, Commander.’

It was almost a question, such was its uncertainty. Spock nodded stiffly, unable to offer him the easy smile of reassurance that Jim was so quick to provide.

‘We will.’ He first eyed Patel to make sure that he had begun the planet-wide scan, before attending to the helmsmen. ‘Hold our current position, gentlemen. We will not be leaving until the Captain has been found.’

‘Yes, Commander,’ came twin replies, Sulu making steady eye contact for the first time since Spock’s announcement. He and Jim were close, Spock knew, and as a human with both a calm temperament and numerous useful skills, Spock would certainly be relying on him in the near future.

Still reluctant to sit in the chair, Spock walked over to Nyota’s station, swallowing hard as she turned to look at him with the devastation he felt so keenly inside.

‘Lieutenant, please contact Prime Minister Eana,’ he began, staring hard at the screen before her instead of meeting her eyes. ‘Let her know what has occurred, and request her help. Should she reply immediately, I will gladly speak to her, but I imagine that today’s events will have resulted in some disorder. Please also notify Starfleet command of what has occurred.’

Nyota hesitated.

‘Do you… I mean, isn’t it a bit early for that?’

Spock shook his head, straightening out his uniform shirt in order to give his restless hands something to do.

‘I understand your reservations,’ he replied, voice lowered, ‘but I believe the weight of Starfleet influence could only be helpful at this point.’

Nodding sharply, she leant forward to begin her transmission, and Spock was once again displaced, wandering restlessly around the Bridge with padd in hand. He stood for a time behind Patel, until he realised that his presence was making the Lieutenant nervous, and finally moved to sit in the Chair. It felt wrong. The First Officer in him mourned the loss of his Captain, calculating possibilities and practicing restraint, but inside, he burned, the frustration of not being able to physically locate Jim setting his heart racing. Despite his own private reservations about speaking with his superiors, he was grateful when Nyota informed him that Command was on the line, and he could leave for Jim’s Ready Room, away from the empty chair and the absence of Jim’s laughter.

The viewscreen had been remotely activated during his journey, and when he walked into the Ready Room, he was somewhat relieved to see Admiral Zhang’s image, her face set in a grim expression.

‘Admiral,’ he greeted flatly, sitting down. It was only when he looked back up that he realised he had not taken the centre chair, but the one to its right; his usual place beside Jim.

Zhang was silent for a long moment, staring down at him with unreadable eyes.

‘First of all,’ she began softly, ‘may I say how sorry I am, Commander? Far be it from me to discuss specific colleagues, but I do believe that this might all have been avoided if certain individuals had practiced restraint. Unfortunately, patience is not a universal virtue.’

Though they were kind words, Spock felt nothing in response. His internal agony, which had begun the second he had discovered that Jim was missing, continued in spite of all the well-meaning platitudes from his colleagues.

‘I have ordered a planet-wide scan to search for Jim’s DNA signature, as Pirilia yielded nothing. If this second scan has the same results, then my suspicions will be proven correct – that the group is somehow concealing Jim from our scanners.’

‘Could they not have taken him off-planet?’

‘I doubt it,’ Spock replied, panic lapping at his shields as the – admittedly unlikely – possibility was mentioned. ‘Like most planets, Euridian monitors their air traffic, and besides, the leader of the group that has likely taken Jim is heavily invested in regaining the throne. It would be counterproductive, and risky, for him to leave Euridian.’

‘Have there been any ransom demands?’ Zhang asked, sharp as ever. ‘That’s usually the way these things go.’

‘Not yet. Although that is the most likely reason for Jim to have been taken, there are any number of other possibilities.’

He paused, inwardly collecting himself as the thought of an example execution flashed through his mind.

‘Lieutenant Uhura has left a message for Prime Minister Eana, whom I believe to be ‘on our side’, if you will.’

‘Good.’ Zhang folded her hands on the table before her. ‘I will do my utmost to get him back to you, Commander. Not only do I think that Jim Kirk is a fantastic Captain, I am all too aware of his popularity on Terra, and should the media get hold of this…’

Spock nodded stiffly. He knew the result that too much publicity might have.

‘I’ll lean on the Euridian government,’ she continued, pausing at the insistent sound of Spock’s communicator. ‘Go ahead, Commander.’

Spock flipped open the comm unit as suggested, hearing Nyota’s voice in response to his greeting.

_‘Prime Minister Eana would like to speak to you, sir.’_

‘Take her call, Commander,’ Admiral Zhang advised, showing him the ta’al in a surprising show of cultural awareness. ‘I’ll do what I can here, but don’t hesitate to contact me if you need any help.’

‘Thank you, Admiral.’

After asking Nyota to transfer Eana to the vidscreen, Spock found that he wasn’t entirely surprised by her dishevelled appearance, considering the events of the day. She was dressed in the same torn robes as she had been that morning, bruising beginning to colour over the scrapes that covered one side of her face.

‘Commander,’ she acknowledged, remarkably subdued in comparison to their previous conversations. Then, Spock processed the emotion that was clear in her expression: guilt. ‘I am truly sorry about what has happened to your Captain. Had I known…’

‘More than your apologies, Prime Minister, I require your assistance. Do you have any information on the whereabouts of the Captain?’

Her frown deepened somewhat, and she reached into her robes, pulling out what seemed to be the Euridian version of a padd.

‘Not yet, but this afternoon, I received both a message, and a holo along with it. The message read thusly:

**“It is unfortunate that we had to go with our second choice. Stand down, stop collaborating with outsiders, and the human will be returned to his rightful place.”**

It came with this.’

She turned the padd around, and Spock’s hands curled so tight around the edges of his chair that his knuckles went white. The holo was of Jim, bound and unconscious in some unidentifiable location, quite clearly injured. Spock could see a deep, oozing cut on his forehead, and his arm was bent in such a way that it must have been badly broken. That was not to mention the numerous cuts, scrapes, and contusions scattered about his exposed skin. The cheap metal beneath Spock’s hands changed shape as he involuntarily squeezed.

‘Send me the holo,’ he rasped, staring down at his padd with sickness in his heart as she complied.

‘I am aware that you will likely be scanning for the Captain, but would you like to return to Pirilia? I will personally search the area with you for anything that may yield more information.’

Spock nodded, the holo having imbued in him fresh desperation.

‘I will be there within fifteen minutes. Spock out.’

The chair squealed as he slid it roughly back, lifting his communicator to his lips.

‘Lieutenant Uhura, please call a meeting of the senior staff for 0730 hours tomorrow. Lieutenant Patel, have you discovered anything whilst scanning?’

_‘Unfortunately not, sir. We’ve got a few hours to go yet, though.’_

Though he had expected it, the news only fuelled Spock’s panic, and he clutched the padd in one hand and the comm unit in another, trying not to break either in his distress.

‘Yes. I will be returning to the surface of Euridian. Lieutenant Sulu, the conn remains yours.’

_‘Yes, sir.’_

He next contacted Medbay, finding that Doctor McCoy answered the call within moments.

_‘We found him?’_

‘No,’ Spock said hoarsely, finding it difficult to admit. ‘I have been invited to return to Pirilia, and I would like you to come with me if you are available.’

_‘I’ll be there in five,’_ McCoy replied, the connection cutting out.

Mister Scott greeted Spock with an eagerness for news, but there was nothing positive that Spock could give him. While he waited for Doctor McCoy to arrive, he discreetly showed the holo of Jim to Scott, who balked at the sight.

‘So those bastards have got ’im,’ he hissed, red-faced in his anger. ‘Where though?’

‘As of yet, we are uncertain,’ Spock muttered, tucking the padd against his chest as if it were Jim himself. ‘I believe they may be cloaking him somehow.’

‘We’ll figure it out, sir. Tomorrow at 0730, yeah?’

‘Correct.’

Doctor McCoy arrived with his usual bluster, which, strangely, was a comfort. He went quiet, however, when Spock showed him the holo, his face paling.

‘That’s a nasty cut,’ he said quietly, zooming in. ‘I hope to God he has no head trauma. And that’s a nasty break in the arm. He must be in a lot of pain, even with his threshold as high as it is.’

Helpless rage simmered in Spock, the primal creature within which all Vulcans sought to suppress howling at the thought of his mate suffering. Of course, he did not yet have the right to call Jim his mate, but his mind and his body desired union with him nonetheless, and he wished to protect his intended from all the suffering he could.

‘Perhaps Eana will be able to aid us in finding him. Are you ready to depart, Doctor?’

McCoy was already stepping onto the platform, and with a nod at Mister Scott, Spock felt the familiar, if unnerving, sensation of being transported, arriving in almost exactly the same place he had that morning. Eana was already waiting, the bruising on her face starker in reality than they had been on the vidscreen. She was flanked by even more guards than she had been that morning, and when they approached she gave them a tight, grimacing smile.

‘I’m sorry that we’re not meeting under better circumstances, gentlemen. Would you like to see the note first, or go out to where the Captain was last seen?’

‘The note, if you please,’ Spock requested, taking the padd that was handed to him, and moving it into McCoy’s view as well.

He had not been certain what to expect, but the note was frustratingly generic, typed rather than written, black lettering on a white background, with no other visual clues.

‘We’ve tried to trace it back multiple times, but it simply redirects again and again. You are welcome to try yourselves.’

‘One of the techs will have a look, I’m sure,’ McCoy murmured, to which Spock nodded.

‘Please send the file to us,’ he requested, turning his attention to the ruined courtyard. ‘May we proceed with the search?’

‘Of course.’

Eana started forward, her ever-present guards surrounding her as she went. Spock and McCoy followed, Spock’s hand resting upon the phaser in his belt as a precaution. The courtyard was as they had left it, aside from the removal of bodies; blood was spattered here and there, rubble creating obstacles, and behind the collapsed archways, there lay the crumbling wall. Despite the fact that he had already been here, his heartrate increased as they rounded the corner, a tiny, unquenchable hope within. The ground, however, remained barren apart from the pool of Jim’s blood, and although he had expected it, Jim’s continued absence hurt Spock deeply.

‘Let’s split up,’ McCoy suggested, clinging tight to his Medikit as if it were weaponry. ‘We’ll cover more ground that way.’

‘Agreed,’ Eana concurred, starting forwards with her guards as McCoy and Spock deviated to the left and right respectively.

Spock forced himself to look down at the blood saturating the ground, tracing the edge of the discolouration with his eyes, and moving on as quickly as he could. He felt impotent in the face of this helpless search, with the expanse of the planet before him. He felt Jim’s absence like a phantom limb, a part of himself now lost, but not forever. Spock did not know how, but logic deferred to the determination that filled him, the stubborn force of it akin to that which he often felt from Jim. As he searched the rubble, a glimmer caught his eye, and he pushed aside grit and gravel to reveal a thin piece of metal, which he picked up between thumb and forefinger. It was only when he displaced yet more rubble that he discovered the shattered remains of Jim’s communicator, ground into the dust in such a way that Spock suspected a boot heel. His stomach lurched.

He must have made some small noise, because McCoy was suddenly by his side, urgency in his voice as he asked if Spock was well. Wordlessly, Spock bent and gathered the shards of the communicator in one hand, numb inside. He heard McCoy’s sharp inhale, and did not shrug off the hand that rested lightly upon his shoulder for a moment as he crouched in the dirt.

‘We’ll find him, Spock.’

Spock believed him. He could not imagine a future in which they did not.

They searched for a number of hours, finding nothing more, and upon returning to the Enterprise, Spock received more bad news. Patel had finished his scan of Euridian, revealing no sign of Jim whatsoever, and although he had expected that result, the news made Spock feel ill. Every second they were unaware of Jim’s whereabouts was another second that he might be suffering, and in the coming, fruitless hours, Spock tortured himself with visions of what he might be experiencing. He had given the message file to the technicians in the absence of any other leads, and would have remained on the Bridge all night had Doctor McCoy not threatened him with admission to Medbay. Inwardly terrified that he would be removed from the search for Jim, and exhausted by the emotional trauma of the day, he returned to his quarters with the express order that he was to be contacted in the event of a breakthrough.

Having grudgingly conceded that there was little else he had the power to do at that time, but unable to even _consider_ sleeping, Spock brought up the message file on his own computer. Long into ship’s night, he tried with growing frustration and distress to trace the source, but at last, with burning eyes, he conceded that he could not. Despair overwhelmed him, and he succumbed to the urge to rest his head upon his folded arms, closing his eyes. He could not help but think that if the situation were reversed, Jim would already have been successful. Numerous times, he had saved Spock from certain death, working tirelessly until he was safe upon the Enterprise again. He – _they_ – always found a way. Now Spock would have to do so alone.

Realising that he had entirely exhausted his computing skills, and finally recognising the stabbing pains behind his eyes for what they were, Spock decided to rest for a moment or two. He allowed his body to relax as much as possible under the circumstances, trying not to think about whether Jim was able to do the same at that moment. Inadvertently, the warmth of his quarters and his exhaustion combined to turn his intended moment’s rest into total collapse.

When next he woke, it was morning.

Guilt enveloped him at the thought of the wasted hours, but he had no time to dwell upon it, as the meeting he had scheduled was due to begin in an hour. After washing and dressing, he contacted the Bridge, only to find that the technicians had so far yielded the same results as himself. He requested that they continue digging, but had little hope for success. Brilliant as the crew was, if experts at Prime Minister Eana’s disposal could not follow the tangle of diversions, it felt it was unlikely that his Ensigns would be able to.

He had no desire to eat, and thus arrived early, but the others were not far behind. By 0720, all the senior officers and primary Bridge crew were assembled in Jim’s Ready Room, an unusual solemnity about them all. Spock did not bother with unnecessary greetings.

‘The situation is thus: the Captain has been kidnapped, presumably by Faeral, the tyrant ousted by Eana. This will not come as a surprise to most of you, I am sure.’

He cast his eyes around the table, seeing Sulu shake his head, and McCoy’s lips thin.

‘What you may not have seen is the message sent to Eana, and the holo along with it.’

Wordlessly, he found the relevant files and displayed them three-dimensionally above the table. Nyota’s horrified gasp and Chekov’s quiet slew of Russian were the only sounds to be heard as the group took in the picture of Jim’s battered, unconscious body, and the threatening note along with it. Spock could not bear to look again, tortured by both the evidence of Jim’s injuries and the possibilities of further harm, so instead he looked at the crew. McCoy, in particular, looked ill, but all were visibly moved. Spock hoped that Jim knew how important he was to them all.

‘I am aware-’ He broke off, swallowed, gathered himself. ‘I am aware that this is not pleasant to see. But knowledge is important if we are to retrieve the Captain quickly. Both the Euridians and our technicians are working to locate the source of these files, but have thus far been unsuccessful. You are more than welcome to make an attempt yourselves.’

‘I vould like to try,’ Chekov said quietly, and Spock nodded, forwarding the files to him.

‘You will have noticed that I have ordered scans of the planet,’ Spock continued, eyeing each of them in turn. ‘As yet the Captain has not been found, but I do not doubt that he remains on Euridian. His presence may be masked in any number of ways, and we must work with Eana and her government to circumvent this to locate him.’

‘What about Starfleet?’ Sulu asked, taking a copy of the message file from Chekov. ‘Can’t they help us?’

‘Admiral Zhang has assured me that all their tools are at our disposal, but they are limited in what they can do to help from so far a distance.’

Nobody spoke for a moment or two, and after asking for questions, Spock dismissed them, urging them all to report to him any breakthroughs they may have. One after another, they trudged miserably out, until only Doctor McCoy and Nyota remained.

‘How are they hiding him, Spock?’ McCoy asked, looking even more weary than usual.

Spock stood on weak legs, anchoring his trembling hands behind his back.

‘I am not certain, but there is certainly technology available that can confuse our sensors.’

McCoy gave him a tiny, jerky nod, outwardly as displeased as Spock felt inside.

‘Any news – any at all – come and get me.’

‘Of course, Doctor,’ Spock said softly, and McCoy left, leaving him alone with Nyota. She watched him with sad understanding, and he found himself avoiding her gaze, barely feeling in control as it was.

‘We’ll find a way, Spock.’

‘We must,’ he whispered, a strange wave of dizziness falling so heavily upon him that he leant back against the conference table. ‘I cannot… I cannot be without him.’

‘I know,’ she said quietly.

Spock blinked fuzzily up at her, the sudden dizziness intensifying. An awful unidentifiable feeling crawled in his gut, and when Nyota next spoke, he found he could not answer her. His shields were crumbling. His mind howled in pain as the wall that had once concealed the derision of his betrothed crumbled into dust, revealing behind it a fraying golden thread, the sight of which stole a beat of Spock’s heart. In sudden realisation, he rushed desperately towards it as it twisted and pulled, threads snapping away, but he was enveloped by darkness before he could get there. Faintly, he heard a desperate scream, the tone of which he knew immediately.

_James._

In that terrible darkness, his beloved’s mind became his own, the torture that ensued experienced in symmetry. As thousands of horrifically painful memories assaulted Jim’s mind, Spock leant over and vomited without shame, barely aware of his surroundings in the hell which he was experiencing. He heard a distant voice call his name, the nails of a slender hand bite into his shoulder, but he could not pay attention to either, his shared agony with Jim so excruciating that it was, in part, a relief when something snapped, and the pain briefly ended. Then, like the destruction of Vulcan, a black hole opened up within Spock’s mind; a gaping, hollow void which replaced something beautiful, something precious.

The t’hy’la bond he had unknowingly shared with his beloved was gone.

Spock screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I'm so tired, I hope this is edited right. If you do spot any mistakes, feel free to give me a head's up. Spock's got the sads this chapter (unsurprisingly), but he's determined to find his Jim! Please give me a comment or kudos if you enjoyed the chapter, and if you want to reblog my tumblr fic posts, they're under [this](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-of-his-soul) tag. I'm aiming for a fortnight for the next chapter, but it could get to three weeks with all that's going on at the moment - feel free to throw me an ask on my tumblr if you want an update or to ask a question about the story :) Hope everyone has a great weekend!


	9. One Faint Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone likes reading spones, you guys should definitely check out @trekdreams on tumblr, who is deepgreensea on here! She's an amazing K/S writer too - some of you have probably read her K/S fic 'Forget About Stars For A While', and if not, you definitely should! :)

Jim was warm. Wonderfully warm. He hummed in satisfaction as he burrowed into the source of the warmth, and felt strong arms tighten around him. Wait. Arms? He trailed his fingertips lightly over the one bracketing his ribcage, and found silky hair upon the forearm, lean muscle concealed beneath. Turning as slowly as he could so as not to wake his partner, his breath caught as he found himself looking into Spock’s face, features lax in sleep. Joy pulsed through Jim as he studied the softly parted lips, the long, dark eyelashes dusting Spock’s cheeks, and the gentle point of his exposed ear. He was beautiful.

As he shifted, the arms around him tightened again, until he was pulled into Spock’s bare chest, where he was quite happy to be. He nuzzled gently at Spock’s collarbone, playing with the thick, soft hair there, so full of love he could barely contain it. When he stretched up a little to mouth at the crook of Spock’s neck, Spock shifted, pressing a barely-there kiss to his crown.

‘Good morning, ashayam.’

His voice was a low rumble that made Jim shiver in delight.

‘Morning, sweetheart,’ he breathed, looking up to find him sleepy-eyed, but awake, his hair all in disarray. With a soft laugh, Jim reached up to smooth it down, only to find his hand caught, and their fingers laced together as Spock leant down for a lingering kiss. It was gentle and slow, and Jim found himself responding like they’d done it a thousand times, a soft moan escaping him as Spock bore him onto his back. They parted as one, Jim giving Spock’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go in order to trace the edge and point of his ear, marvelling at how much affection he could see in those gorgeous brown eyes.

‘It will not be long now,’ Spock murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a pseudo-smile. ‘I anticipate that the children will invade earlier than usual this morning.’

‘Why?’ Jim asked, his memory failing him. For a moment, he couldn’t even remember what the kids looked like.

Spock frowned, stroking gently over the side of his face.

‘Jim, are you feeling quite well? We will be picking up T’Lyra today, remember?’

How could he have forgotten? Even with Sarek’s help and influence, the red tape had taken months to get through, and their newest addition would finally be handed over today. The little ones – and their parents – were ridiculously excited.

‘Yes,’ Jim grinned, pulling him down for another tender kiss that was interrupted by tapping noises coming from the fresher, growing ever more insistent.

‘Daddyyyyy! Sa-mekh!’

Jim and Spock shared an indulgent look, before Spock rose to open the fresher door, and two tiny blurs rushed at the bed, caught and hoisted up by Spock before they could get there. Both were giggling, and Jim noticed Spock’s tiny smile with a thrill of pleasure as Spock clasped the children to his chest for a moment before letting their little girl down onto the bed. She rushed at him, all soft blonde hair and big blue eyes; she was the very image of her daddy, apart from the gently pointed ears.

‘Hey, sweetpea,’ he said warmly, combing her hair back as she snuggled against him. ‘Ready to meet your sister?’

‘Yes!’ she squealed, kicking her legs in excitement.

Jim grinned, tickling her until he shrieked, then reached out to take hold of their little boy as Spock held him out. Gabriel was still sleepy, it seemed. He looked up at Jim from under thick, dark eyelashes, and Jim pressed a fond kiss into his silky hair, then against the point of his ear, inhaling his sweet smell.

‘What about you, honey? You excited?’

Gabriel nodded, smiling toothily, and Jim felt a tickle of the feeling over the familial bond, relieved that the children were ready to welcome their sister. While Spock washed and dressed, Jim distracted the children with silly games, revelling in their laughter. Part-Vulcan they might have been – fiercely intelligent and solemn in company – but in private, as Spock did, they allowed themselves to emote. They were growing so quickly. When they were born, Jim had been reluctant to allow anyone but Spock to prise them from his arms, so enamoured was he with their tiny fingers and toes, and even more with their tiny pointed ears and upswept brows. That feeling hadn’t changed; not one bit. Still, he missed having a baby to hold, and when he and Spock had last visited New Vulcan, they’d gone with the intention of adopting. After months of pushing, they’d finally been granted parental responsibility for T’Lyra, and Jim wasn’t quite sure she’d be their last.

Once his own morning routine was over, he wandered back into their bedroom to see Spock on the floor with the children, his heart skipping at the sight. Spock was lying flat on his back, holding Gabriel straight up above him, gently throwing and catching him as he squealed with laughter. Beside them, Lydia was scribbling on a padd, holding her work up for Spock’s perusal. He caught Gabriel one final time, then sat him on his chest, carefully taking the padd from her hands.

‘Etek?’ he asked, enlarging the picture. When she nodded, he looked at her with those affectionate, smiling eyes, and handed it back. ‘Maut rom, pi’veh. Aifa kur nam-tor set’ki. Gluvau Daddy.’

Obediently, she scrambled upright and held it up to Jim, who took it from her as he dropped into a crouch. The picture seemed to be of their family, with four crude stick figures – although Jim’s head was always massive, for some reason – and a blob in Jim’s arms.

‘Is that T’Lyra, Lyd?’

She nodded, beaming, and he kissed her temple, pushing her fine hair back behind her ear. He and Spock had made a real effort in talking to the children about the new baby, and it seemed like making her a reality to them had actually paid off.

‘That’s beautiful, sweetheart,’ he smiled, catching Spock’s eye after flicking his gaze over to the chrono. ‘Come on then, kids. Time to go.’

After the mad rush that heralded every beam down with the kids, Jim found himself on the transporter platform with Gabriel attached to his leg. Strangely, he couldn’t quite remember how he’d got there, but his frightened little boy was enough to pull him back into the present.

‘It’s all right, baby,’ he soothed, stroking over the tip of his ear with his thumb. ‘Daddy’s here.’

Spock’s hand ghosted over the small of his back as he requested to beam down, a steadying presence, as always. The shock of their appearance on New Vulcan set Gabriel off crying, and Jim lifted him into his arms as they were ushered towards a stark building that served as the area children’s home. It always saddened Jim to see how many little solemn faces peeked out at them when they came, so many children here left without parents after the Va’Pak, having been the first to be evacuated. Some had been taken in by whatever family they had left, but the current population drive left little space in families for those orphaned in the destruction. An older child next, maybe. Jim would have had them all, but he wasn’t sure the Admiralty would go for it.

Spock caressed his fingers with his own as the sadness passed between them, guiding him towards the home manager’s office along with the children.

_We shall discuss more later, ashaya. Now should be a joyous occasion._

_I know,_ Jim said softly, ushering Lydia ahead of him. _It is._

From inside, there came a soft cry, and Jim felt his heart soar as he knocked rapidly, beaming so brightly down at Lydia as they waited that there was bemusement present in her own smile. Then the door opened, and the home manager turned, and there she was. Tiny and green-cheeked in the unsmiling woman’s arms, T’Lyra wailed furiously, but when Jim took hold of her, she quieted a little, grizzling. Jim himself would have burst into tears, had he not suspected that they would snatch her right back off him.

‘Shhh, darling,’ he crooned, cradling her against his chest.

As he rocked her, she settled down, burbling softly as she curled tiny hands into his shirt. Spock was at his shoulder, his eyes full of tenderness, and as he reached out to skim his hand over the back of her head, Jim offered her to him. Gently, so gently, Spock took her from his arms, and Jim’s heart swelled along with the love for their new child within the bond as Spock bent to show her to the children.

As he watched, he began to feel a little woozy, the edges of his vision beginning to blur. Spock didn’t seem to notice, which was odd, and he and the children seemed frozen around the baby. Jim tried to reach out, tried to speak, but he could do neither, and even Spock stopped responding in the bondspace. As if somebody had turned off a light inside his head, the world suddenly went dark, and with a sickening lurch, he was dragged away from the children, from Spock. He fought as best he could, frightened that whatever had hold of him would go for his family next, but to no avail. Dizzily, he opened his eyes to find a diminutive, narrow-faced humanoid looming over him, looking unmistakeably smug.

‘Where’s Spock?’ Jim’s voice was rough, his breath becoming laboured as his temper rose. ‘Where are my _children?’_

The humanoid smirked, crouching before him.

‘Don’t you remember, Jim? You have no children. And Spock is in someone else’s arms.’

Jim didn’t want to believe it, but as he re-adjusted to reality, and remembered the name of the bastard before him, that awful emptiness swallowed him whole. No Spock. No children. Nothing but the ache in his head, an incessant reminder of the loss of something infinitely precious.

‘Hurts, doesn’t it?’ Faeral asked softly, a cloying sympathy in his voice that made Jim’s teeth grit. ‘For everything you hold dear to be ripped away from you in an instant.’

‘You wouldn’t know true loss if it punched you in the face,’ Jim hissed.

He wanted desperately to lie there and cry for the retraction of what he wanted most, but he wouldn’t give Faeral the satisfaction. At his rebuttal, Faeral raised an eyebrow, his expression almost teasing.

‘Er… the loss of my family’s kingdom?’

‘Power,’ Jim said contemptuously, cradling his broken arm. ‘Of course.’

Faeral’s face darkened, and he stood once more, beginning to pace. Given his apparently mercurial nature, Jim could see why the populace had wanted rid of him.

‘You think it was only those of us who were hated who were targeted during the rebellion? During the final bombing, thirty two members of my extended family – eleven of them children – were killed.’

‘They weren’t evacuated?’

‘Why should they have been?’ Faeral asked, arrogant to the last. ‘Pirilia was their birthright.’

‘But they were in danger!’ Jim choked, incredulous. ‘Surely their safety should have come before your family’s ideas about their inheritance.’

‘Oh, that’s right, Captain. Blame the victims.’

‘The children were the victims there,’ Jim argued, splinters of pain ricocheting through him as he accidentally put weight on his arm. ‘Not you.’

Faeral snorted scornfully, jamming his hands in his robe pockets.

‘I won’t argue with you. It becomes tiresome rather quickly. Back to the matter at hand. Are you going to talk?’

Jim was done talking too. The question had been answered too many times before.

‘Suit yourself. But you could save yourself a lot of pain, you know.’

Jim didn’t respond. He knew what was coming, and although he couldn’t prevent his flinch as Faeral ghosted a hand over his head, he didn’t make a sound.

‘So much to choose from,’ Faeral mused. ‘Mind you, I’ve got time for modifications.’

Tensing against the inevitability of it all, Jim found himself flung back into a memory from way before Tarsus, when he’d still had Sam, apparently. Both boys were under their beds, the whites of Sam’s wide eyes visible to Jim from across the room, the darkness hiding pretty much everything else. Jim had never liked playing hide and seek. His heart was fluttering in his chest, a very physical reaction to the sound of glass smashing downstairs, and the enraged shouting that ensued. His little hands balled into fists, curling into his chest just as his body curled in on itself when pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs. He hadn’t yet learned how to breathe quietly when scared; nor had Sam.

‘Where are you, you little _bastards?’_

Frank’s voice set Jim’s stomach rolling in terror, a whimper forcing itself involuntarily from his throat. Sam’s eyes widened further, and Jim swallowed the sound as best he could. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Frank always found them, no matter where they hid.

‘I _said,_ where are you?’

Panic set in as Frank bust into their bedroom, and Jim curled up tighter, praying that Frank would lose interest. Tears dripped silently down his face as the heavy footsteps approached, and he watched in terror as Frank’s hand fished under Sam’s bed, grabbing him by the collar of his pyjama top. Sam squealed as he was yanked out, but when the blows started to fall, he was almost silent, and Jim knew it was because he was strong. As Sam always said though, Jim wasn’t cut from quite the same cloth. Sam was a real Kirk.

‘Where’s the other one?’

Frank’s question to Sam’s crumpled form was left unanswered. When Jim crawled closer, he saw the blood dripping sluggishly onto the floor, and he couldn’t tell if Sam was still conscious or not.

‘Where is he?’ Frank spat, and Jim’s heart stuttered as a heavy boot impacted Sam’s side, shifting his limp form across the floor. ‘Where _is_ he?’

Another kick; no reaction. As Frank drew his leg back once more, Jim gathered his courage and scrambled out from beneath the bed, trembling wildly.

‘I’m here!’

Bloodshot eyes fixed upon him, and Jim fought the urge to run as Frank came stumbling towards him, rage clear. Unlike Sam, he cried out when Frank’s hand cracked across his face, cowering on the floor in anticipation of the next blow.

‘You’re weak,’ Frank hissed, sinking a fist into his stomach. ‘Just like your father.’

Jim knew his dad hadn’t been weak, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. He didn’t protest apart from in the form of a sharp cry as Frank launched a dedicated assault that set his ears ringing, aggressive and seemingly endless.

‘Pathetic,’ Frank spat, shoving hard so that Jim stumbled backwards, knocking his head against something which sent shattering pain through his skull. As Frank approached once more, Jim’s vision went dark.

When he woke, the smell that tickled at the back of his throat made him gag. A little hand was patting at his cheek, and when he opened his eyes, it withdrew. Before him sat Leda and Luna, twins he’d pulled out of the wreck of one of the villages a few weeks before, starving and silent. They were perhaps two or three, but they spoke so rarely that asking was probably useless. Jim didn’t blame them after the shit they’d been through.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, dry lips cracking under the strain. ‘What’s the matter?’

There was no point asking if they were hungry – of course they were – but bread had been rationed out recently enough that they’d survive. Leda pointed shakily over to the mouth of the cave, where the children were crowding, bent over something apparently of interest. Interest was rarely positive here. Scrambling upright on coltish legs, Jim sat the girls down before rushing over the cave entrance, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. When he saw what the others had been hiding, dread throbbed in his belly. Kevin, still so young himself, was bent over little Aric with wild, wet eyes, hands shaking. There was a strange rattle in Aric’s throat; a rattle that Jim had heard too many times before.

With bitter tears welling, Jim sent the others away, and lifted Aric into his arms. He was just a baby, five years old, and yet he was dying because of the decision made by a genocidal maniac that he wasn’t worthy enough to live. No matter how many times he did this, Jim’s rage remained as white-hot as the day his aunt and uncle had burned. Ignoring for now the tears of the others, he held his trembling, sparrow-boned boy against his chest and carried him outside, away from where the little ones could see. Aric’s eyes were half-lidded, his skin frighteningly wan, and he made a weak sound of distress as Jim sat down, cradling him in his lap.

‘Shhh,’ Jim said thickly, combing through his dark hair with a shaking hand. ‘Shhh, buddy, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here.’

He kept up the repetitive motion with his hand until he felt Aric go limp, his shallow, gasping breaths no longer audible. Fighting for composure, Jim let his hand slide down towards Aric’s neck and press into his carotid. Nothing. Expecting it didn’t make it any easier, and when the stillness beneath his fingers forced him to accept the inevitable, Jim couldn’t stop the wrenching sob that tore from his throat, nor the tears that followed. It wasn’t fair. Aric was the second he’d have to bury this week, and for what? There was food enough in the stores to last until rescue arrived, Jim was sure, but Kodos hadn’t called for help. Instead, he’d condemned most of his people to death, condemned _children_ to death, and Jim hated that even whoring himself out couldn’t save them.

Clutching Aric’s body, he cried until he was spent, then dragged himself to his feet. He wiped his swollen eyes, knees buckling in exhaustion as he once more lifted Aric and carried him off towards their makeshift graveyard. The ground there was littered in crosses, and a rusted shovel was propped up against the rocks, still caked in dirt from the last time. With unsteady breath, Jim lay Aric down once more, and carefully closed his eyes, hoping that wherever he was now, he was free from the pain he’d experienced in his short life.

Unceremoniously, he was dragged from this latest series of hellish memories, and was glad for it, despite the crippling headache. He was alone in the cell, which was strange. Faeral had usually been here to force him in and out of his mind, and the thought that he could do so remotely was disturbing. He chose not to dwell on it, even though stopping himself thinking about what he’d seen inside his head was proving much more difficult. He’d spent years trying to forget the terrible things he experienced as a child, and though he didn’t want to admit it, reliving the memories was starting to get to him. What was worse, Faeral seemed to be getting better at making him feel as if he were really there again, beginning to manipulate senses other than sight. That certainly didn’t bode well, especially if Faeral chose to subject him to certain _other_ memories, ones he’d buried deep long ago.

Shivering, Jim drew his knees up against his chest, trying and failing to get into a comfortable position. Most of the pain from a few days before had mutated into a much deeper ache, bar that which pulsed sharply whenever he forgot not to use his broken arm, and he was struggling even to breathe through it, let alone relax. As he shifted restlessly, the door slammed open, and a tray was slid towards him, the force of it sloshing some of the water over the side of the glass resting upon it.

‘Watch it!’ Jim growled, keenly aware of how precious it was.

The silent, brutish man in the doorway turned back, and Jim found himself clutching at his head, a sharp cry tearing from his throat.

_You are in no place to make demands._

Refusing to be cowed, Jim stared unblinking and mutinously up at the grunt until he left, then made a grab for the tray. They’d fed him a few times, but sparingly, and it was difficult not to wolf down the suspicious-looking slop all at once. Still, for all he panicked when there wasn’t enough, he had great self-discipline with food, and the tray was once more pushed away when he’d eaten only a little, the water barely sipped at. He was so hungry, the feeling in his stomach echoed that which he’d felt in his memory, but he knew he couldn’t indulge. There was no guarantee he’d be fed tomorrow.

He tensed as the door opened once more, but Faeral merely hung in the doorway like a child, rocking slowly back and forth on his heels.

‘I’m surprised you’re awake, Captain.’

‘And why is that?’ Jim asked hoarsely, hating the weakness in his voice.

Faeral shrugged, eyes sharp upon him.

‘Pulling memories forth can be quite a _draining_ experience. Most people would be unconscious right now, but then again, you have proven yourself to be rather recalcitrant. Feel like talking yet?’

Jim stared at him with unrestrained hatred, trying to brace himself for another violation.

‘No?’ Faeral drawled, leaning sideways against the doorway, and turning his head to Jim. ‘Well, I won’t push it anymore today, because you’d be surprised how close your brain is to becoming mush. You know they won’t find you, don’t you?’

Though he didn’t feel much like moving anything, Jim raised an eyebrow, undaunted.

‘You’d be surprised how resourceful my crew can be.’

‘You’d be surprised how resourceful _my_ people can be,’ Faeral countered, dragging his nail down the doorframe with a grating sound that made Jim wince. ‘Our technology is, in many ways, superior to yours.’

‘That doesn’t mean it’s faultless,’ Jim argued, blinking away the blur in his vision. ‘And like I said, my crew is exceptional.’

‘Mmm. Especially Spock.’

Jim barely repressed a flinch at the sound of his name, his lips drawing tightly together.

‘Nothing to say?’ Faeral smirked. ‘I’m surprised, given how pathetically obsessed you are with him. What do you think your Command would say if they knew how you drool over your First Officer?’

‘I don’t drool over him,’ Jim gritted out, struggling to his feet. ‘And I have done nothing that would lead to an accusation of coercion.’

Faeral snorted, his hands illustrating his words as he spoke.

‘Oh, really? What then do you call draping yourself all over him after a bad dream? Or trying to kiss him in your quarters? It’s a unique command style, I’ll give you that.’

‘There was reciprocity there,’ Jim spat, though he wasn’t quite convinced of that himself.

‘Are you sure?’ Faeral stood up straight, and walked close enough to him that Jim could see the nasty gleam in his deep-set eyes. ‘Do you remember the other day when your head hurt just a smidge?’

How could he forget? That had been the worst pain Jim had ever felt, and the enduring emptiness made his head throb, the ragged exit wound of something beautiful, if unknown. Jim had tried to close himself off from the constant ache, to convince himself that it was psychosomatic, but he couldn’t deny the feeling of utter _wrongness_ that surrounded the pain, like he’d lost a part of himself. He gave Faeral a terse nod, watching his lips curl into an unpleasant smile with dread curling in his gut.

‘That was a Vulcan bond. A _soulbond,_ no less, formed entirely spontaneously. It’s almost as if you were destined to be together.’

Despite his deep mistrust of Faeral, Jim’s heart was fluttering unwillingly in his chest. It sounded similar, so similar to what he’d experienced in the meld with Selek on Delta Vega, that all-encompassing, unconditional love that had stolen the breath from his lungs. But then Faeral knew about that too, didn’t he?    

‘You’re lying,’ he said dully, unwilling to allow himself even the slightest hope.

‘Oh, I assure you, Captain, I’m not. Didn’t you see the golden thread before it snapped? Don’t you feel the lonely ache of being without that unknown presence inside your mind?’

Jim stayed silent, unwilling to admit how much the emptiness truly hurt. Faeral’s lips curled further, in a grin that could only be described as sadistic.

‘Strange, isn’t it, that Spock never mentioned the bond?’ he said softly, tilting his head in feigned confusion. ‘I mean, you’re his _soulmate_ ; surely that should have had him proposing to you on sight? Or, at the very least, attempting to court you.’

‘Stop talking shit,’ Jim growled, stepping forward ‘til their faces were mere inches apart. ‘Soulmates don’t exist.’

‘Oh, but they do, Captain. Only for Vulcans, the name for them is t’hy’la.’

His tongue curled around the word with far too much relish, and Jim felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Of course, Faeral could be lying, but the word had brought forth a memory in Jim’s mind, and not one of his own. No, it came from in amongst the blur of Selek’s memories of his own Jim, from in between gasps of breath and desperate kisses, hands clutching and stroking and loving –

_T’hy’la!_

Feeling faint, Jim wavered where he stood, dizzy heat rising through him. He couldn’t rule out the possibility of Faeral lying, but if he wasn’t- if he _wasn’t…_

‘It really is a shame,’ Faeral breezed, faux-sympathy widening his eyes. ‘He _knew_ that you were his t’hy’la, and still he carries on with Uhura, all this time later.’

‘Shut up.’

‘The t’hy’la bond is revered amongst Vulcans, and still you’re not good enough.’

‘I said, shut _up!’_

Jim felt sick, his whole body shaking with pent-up emotion. Had Spock really known what they could be to one another? What they were _meant_ to be? All these years, he’d watched and pined and _hoped,_ only to be left disappointed, and if Spock had ignored that, knowing about their bond… Jim struggled not to cry, not to scream as the obvious conclusion was formed. They were _soulmates,_ and Spock still didn’t want him. Before him, Faeral smiled softly, his head tilting to one side.

‘You’ve been told enough times, haven’t you, Jim? By the people you took home for just one night. By the guards on Tarsus IV. By _Frank._ You’re only good for a fuck.’

The repressed rage in Jim boiled over, and with a shout, he swung his fist towards Faeral, hearing the crack as it connected with his jaw with a swell of satisfaction. He didn’t have long to be smug, though, because Faeral’s own hand reached out as he cradled his bloody face, and Jim’s brain suddenly felt like it was on fire. He crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut as a thousand needles stabbed and twisted inside his head; he was sure that he was screaming, but he could neither hear nor prevent it. Eventually, when his throat had grown hoarse and he was twitching weakly under the onslaught, the pain lifted, and he could breathe again.

‘Never,’ Faeral whispered, face contorted, ‘attempt to strike me again.’

Jim looked up at him through bleary, bloodshot eyes, defiant even now.

‘Then don’t try and tell me what I’m worth.’

Faeral’s hand contracted, as if tempted to hurt him again, but then his fist unclenched, and he backed away with a hiss of breath.

‘The only reason you’re not dead right now is because there is information you can give me. But one day, my irritation might outweigh the fact. Remember that, Captain.’

Perhaps wisely, Jim kept his mouth shut, and Faeral wrenched open the door with a bloody grin, almost vampiric with those jagged teeth.

‘We’ll begin again tomorrow.’

The door slammed shut, and the key turned in the lock, and Jim was left to slump back against the wall with an aching head. He wished he’d never learnt about the bond. Knowing that Spock had chosen Uhura as a partner over him was bad enough, but it was even more unbearable now that Jim knew he’d been aware of what they shared. Or rather, what they _had_ shared. Jim wondered whether Spock had felt the agony of their bond snapping as keenly as he had, and the idea brought a lump to his throat. Even now, he didn’t want him hurt. Although it gave him a crippling pain in his chest, if Spock was happy with Nyota, then he’d never interfere. Still, the future he’d seen…

Jim reached out with a shaking hand to take a sip of his water, closing his eyes as he rested back against the wall. He’d been so deliriously happy in the fantasy that Faeral had conjured up, real or not. Though his Captaincy was undeniably important to him, he’d wanted his own children ever since the mess on Tarsus, and somehow, Faeral had managed to merge all his desires into one. When he thought about Lydia, and Gabriel, and little T’Lyra, the longing was so intense that he could hardly breathe with it, and with Spock as his partner, there was nothing he wanted more. His children. _Their_ children. He’d never forget the joy of seeing them, with their little pointy ears and upswept eyebrows, even if – and the thought hurt him terribly – they were never born in this universe.

Cradling his broken arm against his chest, Jim curled up on his side, trying not to think about the children, or the bond. Soon, in all his brilliance, Spock would find him. He’d lead a Security team to him, and Bones would fix him up, scolding him all the while. Scotty would beam them back up, Uhura would smooth things over with the Euridians, and Sulu and Chekov would get them out of there once his captors had been apprehended and the negotiations over. Soon, everything would be back to normal… or it would have been, if he hadn’t made such a fool of himself with Spock. He’d do what he’d have to to smooth things over with him, ignore their snapped bond if he must, because Spock’s happiness meant far more to him than his own. With that thought in mind, Jim succumbed to his physical and mental exhaustion, and fell into a restless, fitful sleep.

_‘T’hy’la.’_

_Tonight, it is a heated whisper in his ear as Spock’s strong arms coil around him from behind, hands splaying possessively over his belly and chest. Jim’s breath hitches as a finger circles his nipple, and a tongue licks wetly over the curve of his ear, his hips bucking fruitlessly into the air._

_‘Adun,’ he rasps, hands coming up to stroke and squeeze Spock’s biceps, feeling the lean muscle beneath with a shudder of arousal. ‘Don’t tease me.’_

_‘You know that I do not like to rush with you,’ Spock returns, his voice almost a growl, given the pitch._

_As his fingers gently pinch at Jim’s nipple, Jim’s head lolls back onto his shoulder, and he moans as Spock kisses a trail down his neck, sucking hard enough that Jim knows there’ll be a mark tomorrow. He wants there to be one, even if it’ll definitely be below his collar. Spock’s careful like that – their marks are for each other alone._

_‘Spock,’ he breathes, wiggling an arm into the non-existent gap between them to squeeze lightly at the thick bulge in Spock’s underwear, pleased as always by the sodden material beneath his hand._

_Spock gasps as he thumbs awkwardly over the head, then displaces Jim’s hand with a hiss, pressing a few chaste kisses against the back of it before pushing his hips forward to grind against Jim. The movement alone makes Jim’s cock leak, a simulation of what is probably to come later tonight, and he arches into Spock when the hand stroking over his belly slides down to fiddle with the waistband of his boxers._

_‘Please. Oh,_ please, _love.’_

_They’ve done this a thousand times, and it’s still so_ good, _Spock’s hand slipping inside to draw the length of him out, sliding a finger from root to tip, circling gently round the leaking slit. Jim mewls at the teasing, pushing back into Spock’s undulating hips, then forward into where paired fingers smooth over his shaft and tight sac, sending sparks of pleasure shooting upwards._

_‘E’tum,’ Spock hums, taking pity on him as he whimpers, and wrapping a hand firmly around his erection. ‘Ashal-veh.’_

_Jim rocks into that perfect grip with desperation, Spock’s arm like a steel band around his waist as his legs tremble under the strain of holding his muscles taut, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. He moans when Spock begins stroking him in earnest, swiping a thumb over the sensitive patch beneath the head of his cock, and he twists back to kiss him sloppily, moaning into his mouth. It isn’t long before he’s coming, spurting over Spock’s hand with a muffled cry. The rutting behind him stops for a moment as he drifts in a post-orgasmic haze, Spock nuzzling against his temple, but then he gathers himself, and reaches behind him to yank down Spock’s underwear, then his own._

_‘Your turn, baby.’_

_Spock needs no guidance to mould himself against Jim once more, a deep groan reverberating against Jim’s ear as he continues grinding against him, one hand stroking over his chest as the other holds him in place. Though he’s nowhere near ready yet for round two, Jim whines at the feel of Spock’s natural lubricant wetting him; he’s making such a mess, and Jim loves it, loves_ him.

_‘Are you going to come for me?’ he asks softly, taking the questing hand into his own, and raising it to his lips. ‘Come for me, ’shaya.’_

_Spock whimpers as Jim sucks on his fingers, his hips stuttering, and his gasping breaths becoming moans, his free hand clutching tight at Jim’s hip._

_‘Jim,’ he chokes, burying his face into his neck. As Jim sucks harder, reaching blindly back to thread a hand into his hair, he makes a sound suspiciously like a sob, hand spasming in his mouth. ‘Oh! Oh,_ Jim.’

_Jim feels him come as much as hears him, rocking his hips back absently to draw his orgasm out as he releases his fingers with one last gentle suck. Arms come around him, holding him as tenderly as always, and he leans_ _back against Spock, heedless of the mess between them._

_‘I love you,’ he murmurs, letting Spock guide him back into a slow, deep kiss that he melts into._

_When they part, Spock leans his forehead against Jim’s temple, his breathing still somewhat ragged._

_‘And I you, beloved,’ he says hoarsely, turning him and taking hold of his hand. ‘Come, you are tired.’_

_With Spock, Jim is happy to let himself be taken care of, and he allows Spock to clean him up and lead him to bed, exhaustion overtaking him. When he reaches out, Spock is reaching back, and they curl together like they so often do, Jim’s head upon his chest._

In the cool, damp cell of reality, Jim slept far more deeply than before, unaware as of yet of the faint glimmer of golden light deep in the darkness of his damaged mind.

A rekindling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, this chapter's a bit of a mix, isn't it? Things certainly aren't going great for our Jim right now, bless him. I hope you did enjoy the chapter - I only _just_ finished it in time - and please let me know if you did! My tumblr is over [here](https://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) if you want to take a look - lots of trek stuff, and my writing updates are under the tag 'captain of his soul'. Hope everyone has a good weekend :)
> 
> PS. It's looking like the next update will probably be in three weeks ;^; There's a lot of upheaval going on at the moment - plus, it's my birthday, so I'm going to be out of the house a lot at times I would normally be writing... Might be able to get it done mid-week at some point, but the latest it will be up is in three weeks!
> 
> PPS. Fun fact: I painstakingly (probably wrongly) translated that Vulcan too long ago for me to remember what I meant, so I had to do it again! Anyway, I think: ‘Etek? Maut rom, pi’veh. Aifa kur nam-tor set’ki. Gluvau Daddy.’ means 'Us? Very good, little one. These colours are interesting. Show Daddy.'


	10. I Want No World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn for a fleeting mention of suicidal ideation here - it's nothing graphic, and very brief, but I don't want anyone upset.

When Spock first attempted to open his eyes, the intensity of the white light that met his vision was enough to force them closed again, a hand lifting weakly to shield them. His head hurt, so much so that he was concerned as to why Doctor McCoy had neglected to provide him with analgesics, but as he slowly came to, the nature of the pain reasserted itself, and Spock went cold. This was not a standard mission, with Jim waiting impatiently at the door of his room until McCoy would allow him inside. In his head pulsed a ragged void, and Jim – Jim was _gone._

He could not contain the strangled noise which tore from his throat, a wave of grief coming over him so intensely that he began to retch, and as his eyes opened in panic, a sick bowl was shoved in front of him just in time. He was peripherally aware of Doctor McCoy’s presence as he gagged, expelling only a little liquid before sitting back against the pillows, exhausted. McCoy hovered around him as he trembled, scanning him with a tricorder with a furrowed brow. Spock’s devastation was such that he endured the examination without comment, staring bleakly at the blank white wall at the other end of the room. Jim - his t’hy’la, his k'hat'n'dlawa - was dead. Spock had no desire to command. He was not certain that he had any desire to live.

‘I’ve been trying to diagnose you for three goddamn days, and nothing,’ McCoy grumbled, unaware of his internal agony. ‘M’Benga thinks it might be somethin’ to do with your mental shields, but the subspace network hasn’t been stable enough to call New Vulcan yet. Nyota’s been trying to… Spock?’

Oblivious to the doctor’s rambling, Spock felt the tears that had welled in his eyes overflow, and he could not muster even the slightest shame for his emoting.

‘Spock, what’s the matter?’

He could not speak; not yet, while the pain was still so raw, the void within his mind emulating his life without Jim in it. He was an empty vessel, numb to all but the loss of his t’hy’la, agonising over the hostility of their last interaction. It was regretful that Spock did not have the Vulcan capability of stopping his own heart. McCoy buzzed around him, asking questions he could not answer, and it wasn’t until he felt a slight pressure against his neck that there was a numbness of an entirely different kind, and the doctor’s worried face came into far clearer view.

‘Spock, can you speak?’ he asked gently, sitting on the bed next to his leg. ‘I’ve given you something to calm you down, all right?’

‘Jim,’ Spock said thickly, raising dull eyes to meet McCoy’s. ‘Jim is gone.’

McCoy frowned, handing him a tissue to wipe away the streaming tears. Spock did not make use of it.

‘C’mon, you don’t know that. Jim’s a fighter.’

‘I do,’ Spock keened, just as Doctor M’Benga arrived, his face alighting with alarm at the sight of Spock’s own.

‘Spock, what’s wrong?’

‘He thinks Jim is dead,’ McCoy answered softly, exchanging a look with M’Benga that Spock did not understand.

M’Benga approached slowly, as one might a startled animal, drawing up a chair at the other side of the biobed.

‘Why do you think that?’

A quiet sound of distress escaped Spock, misery enveloping him.

‘Our bond,’ he croaked, watching M’Benga’s eyes widen with a choked-off sob. ‘I did not know, but he was… he was t’hy’la.’

M’Benga inhaled sharply, his expression containing such empathy that Spock could not bear to look at him.

‘The bond broke, and my mind could not take the strain.’

How poorly those words described the sensation of being torn in two, of losing Jim so suddenly, and without knowing of their connection.

‘I’m so sorry, Spock. Are you certain that it can’t be something else? Perhaps a psychic attack?’

Spock shook his head. He would not allow himself to hope, even with the knowledge of Jim’s unique propensity for surviving against the odds.

‘I felt it tear,’ he rasped, hands grasping so tightly at the bedsheet that the fabric began to warp. ‘Beyond that, I am not sure, but even if it was a psychic attack, it is unlikely that Jim would have survived the bond being so forcefully ripped apart.’

Tears dripped into his lap, and although both men were looking at him with deep concern, he could neither stop crying, nor manage to be ashamed of his conduct.

‘C’mon, Spock,’ McCoy said quietly, picking up and dabbing the tissue against his eye socket until he held it there himself. ‘What bond?’

Spock quickly swiped the tissue across his face, before dropping it into his lap, swallowing around the painful lump in his throat. He had spent his entire life hoping that one day he would have a compatible bondmate with whom to share his life, but he had never dreamed that he would ever be so fortunate as to have a t’hy’la. Yet now, his Jim was dead, without ever knowing how much he was loved, how much he was wanted. Spock could hardly bear it.

‘There are many types of bond on Vulcan,’ he began, every word an effort. ‘Of those which relate to intimate relationships, the great majority are completed deliberately by the individuals involved, either privately, or in a ceremony. Those may be betrothal or marriage bonds. T’hy’la bonds are… different.’

He broke off for a moment, overwhelmed, and Doctor M’Benga replied for him.

‘They’re practically the stuff of legend. Revered. I’ve never met t’hy’lara before, though Vulcans are often hyper-private in their marriages.’

‘What does it mean?’ McCoy asked, looking to Spock.

‘T’hy’la has no direct standard translation. The closest perhaps is ‘friend, brother, lover.’

‘Lover?’ McCoy blurted, eyes wide. ‘Jim’s never said.’

Spock shook his head.

‘We have not been together in that way. Those descriptors are… possibilities. The first t’hy’la bonds were forged between brother warriors on ancient Vulcan. It is believed that they were fated to come together, as friends, as brothers, and then as mates. The spontaneous formation of the bond, and the strength contained therein, is - as Doctor M’Benga states - revered.’

‘And you have one of these bonds with Jim?’

‘Had,’ Spock replied tightly, eyes burning once more with the threat of tears. ‘Jim is… the bond is gone.’

McCoy was pale, but M’Benga seemed more uncertain, appearing as if he were readying himself to say something difficult. Spock did not want to hear it. He wanted nothing more than his t’hy’la in his arms, but the violence of the destruction of their bond did not allow him hope. Before M’Benga could speak, there came a buzzing from his communicator –

‘M’Benga here.’

‘Lieutenant Uhura here, doctor. Is Spock awake yet? I have Ambassador Selek on the line and he’s insistent that he must speak with him at once.’

‘He is,’ M’Benga replied, accepting McCoy’s offered padd with a tight smile. ‘Patch him down to Doctor McCoy’s padd, please.’

‘Of course.’

A fresh wave of nausea came over Spock as he realised that he would have to tell his elder self that James Kirk had died for a second time. He could barely take hold the padd, his hands were shaking so hard, and Selek’s request for the doctors to leave seemed faint and tinny to his ears. Still, he attempted to concentrate when he was alone with the padd, Selek’s eyes boring into his.

‘What has happened to Jim?’

Spock was not certain of the noise that left his mouth, but he did notice the concern in Selek’s softened expression, his brow creasing in the centre.

‘Youngling, do not cry,’ he said gently, lifting his hand to the screen. ‘Where is Jim?’

Spock had not even realised that he had been crying, but the question only made him weep harder, safe in the knowledge that this was one Vulcan who would not judge him for it.

‘Jim is dead,’ he choked, wiping roughly at his eyes.

‘Hush, nu’ri-veh. Jim lives; of that I am sure.’

Spock shook his head furiously, desperately.

‘He was t’hy’la, and I did not know,’ he said weakly, throat raw. ‘I felt our bond snap, and he was gone from my mind. He is _gone.’_

‘Yet not from my mind.’

Spock’s shuddering breath hitched. He looked slowly up at Selek, who was watching him with an earnest expression, certainty in his eyes.

‘Long ago, I felt the bond with my own Jim tear in two. The pain was horrendous, as I am sure you well know. But there was an encounter with your Captain in this universe – are you aware that I melded with him on Delta Vega?’

Spock felt a swell of jealousy in his gut, even as he loathed himself for it.

‘I was not. Why?’

‘I behaved rather abominably, I’m afraid,’ Selek admitted. ‘Jim was not aware of what exactly I was doing until I initiated the meld. I needed to convey a lot of information at once, and there was little time in which to do so.’

‘You melded with him without consent?’ Spock asked, horrified. ‘Elder, no matter the circumstances, that is fundamentally _wrong.’_

‘I know. I have since apologised, though I am aware that that does not make it acceptable. Later, after Nero’s destruction, I became aware of a weak link, somewhat akin to an echo of the bond I had experienced with my own Jim. It was, and is, very faint, and thus I did not inform Jim about it. Yet it is there still. I have been trying to contact the Enterprise for three standard days because I experienced pain originating from Jim, but the link remains unbroken.’

Unable to process the information that he had just been given, Spock sat without reaction, unblinking.

‘Spock, did you hear me?’ Selek questioned. ‘Jim is alive.’

Relief came over Spock so strongly that he shook with it, letting the padd rest in his lap for a moment as he slumped back into the pillows, eyes closed. He felt his lips curl into an involuntary smile, and when he picked the padd up once more, Selek was smiling too, rather more restrainedly than Spock himself.

‘Yes, youngling, it is good news. However, I am still unaware of his whereabouts.’

‘He was abducted,’ Spock replied, sobering quickly. Though elated to know that Jim was, in fact, still alive, he was also keenly aware of the danger he might still be in. ‘We began negotiations with Euridian, and there was an explosion upon our arrival in Pirilia, the capital city. Jim and I were separated, and after an altercation with a number of armed invaders, I found that he was gone. We scanned the entirety of Euridian, and found nothing, but I cannot imagine him being taken off-planet. We believe that he has been taken by those of the previous regime, and the current leader Eana has been sent a message, and a holo of Jim.’

Without another word, Spock sent across both items to Selek, cringing at the sight of the damage to Jim in the holo. Selek received both with an unreadable expression, studying the message for a long moment before raising his eyes to Spock.

‘I assume that you have tried to trace the origin of the message.’

‘Naturally,’ Spock sniffed, ‘though as of yet, the Enterprise technicians, Eana’s workers and myself have all been unsuccessful. You are, of course, welcome to try yourself.’

Selek nodded, already transferring the file across to his personal computer.

‘Your father may also be helpful. Failing that, there may be another way of locating Jim. My bond with him would not be strong enough without direct intervention with us both in the same room. Yours, however, is of an entirely different ilk.’

‘It is broken,’ Spock miserably reminded him, ‘I cannot reach him.’

‘For now.’ Selek’s expression gentled, growing somewhat sorrowful. ‘Spock, I know the pain of a t’hy’la bond tearing in two. It is horrific. When my James died, I wished for death. But you – you have hope. Your Jim is alive, and even remotely, the bond may repair itself.’

‘But I cannot touch his mind,’ Spock pointed out, confused.

‘It will be difficult, but it can be done without physical contact. It would be preferable for me to be on the Enterprise, but considering your location, that would not be appropriate. Instead, I will direct you in how to attempt to repair the bond, and reach out to Jim to reconnect. Although most humans would have great difficulty with this, my Jim was always sensitive to telepathic ministrations, so I expect yours will be also.’

Spock knew that hope was a dangerous thing, and yet he could not help but feel it, aware that the experience his older counterpart had had with his own bond and the healing of others could be greatly beneficial.

‘I would appreciate the help, Ambassador,’ he said, shifting upright against the head of the biobed. ‘How should I begin?’

Selek leant towards the screen, affixing Spock with a look akin to those of his school instructors, focused and impassive.

‘You must begin as you would during meditation. Calm your body; evaluate your mind. Once you have centred yourself, locate the void, and assess it. It is natural to wish to avoid the area, but it is imperative for the reinstatement of the bond to know the space it has left behind. Discover its limits, and its depth.’

Spock waited for more, but none came. Frustrated, he opened his mouth to question Selek, but he was interrupted before he could.

‘I understand that you have very little patience in this matter,’ Selek said soothingly, ‘but this may take time. Pushing too hard could damage your mind irreparably, and apart from the effect that would have on you, it would also completely destroy any chance we might have of using you to find Jim. Now, focus your mind.’

Spock obeyed, resting the padd in his lap as he settled into a light meditative trance. He heard Selek as if from within his own mind as he continued to speak –

‘Explore the void, Spock. I will be here when you awake.’

Trusting his counterpart to explain to the doctors if they returned, Spock forced himself to return to the blackness of his own mind, strong motivation in the knowledge that this was an opportunity to attempt to locate Jim. Where once a great wall had stood between his conscious mind and the hidden bond, there was now its crumbled remains, and beyond, the very emptiness which he’d been trying to avoid. He approached hesitantly, looking up at the looming darkness on his mind’s horizon with rising nausea. It pained him to be near it, but he knew he must for Jim’s sake. Swallowing, he approached the very edge of the great black cavern, repressing a retch as he stared into the nothingness beyond. It was as if when the bond had snapped, it had torn out a part of his very essence along with it, leaving only blank space behind. With an unsteady hand, Spock reached forth and touched the very edge of the void, wincing as he did so. It was extremely unpleasant, akin to submerging his hand in ice cold water, and Spock hated the cold. Uncertain as to whether what he was doing was correct, he continued forward, ignoring how his head ached and his stomach rolled as he allowed the darkness to envelop him.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The darkness pressed in upon him in an almost physical manner, compressing his chest, weighing down his limbs. He could not see any trace of the bond which had once been there, nor anything else besides, only the eternal emptiness stretching on and on and-

Between one breath and another, Spock found himself back in the biobed, feeling immediate relief as the crushing weight upon his chest lifted. After a moment, however, he recalled what he had been sent to do, and failure settled upon him once more. When he looked down at the padd, Selek was watching him with kind eyes, the emotion in them easily perceptible to one who shared them.

‘How can you regard me in such a way?’ Spock muttered, choked with self-loathing. ‘I found nothing.’

Selek shook his head, infuriating in the calm he exuded.

‘You have barely begun, Spock. If you are anything like myself – and I believe, after spending time with your father, that you are – then you are persistent. I have faith that you will succeed.’

Helpless beneath his surety, Spock met his gaze until he could no longer, then bowed his head in silent acceptance. He would find Jim. He would work harder than he ever had before to do so.

‘You love him.’

Spock allowed his lips to curve the tiniest amount in a bittersweet smile.

‘Yes.’

‘Then go,’ Selek encouraged. ‘Seek him within your mind. Bring him home. I will be available day and night.’

‘I thank thee, elder,’ Spock said sincerely, making his goodbyes swift.

With new steel in his determination to find Jim, he stood, dressed, and made to exit the room, only to be intercepted by Doctor McCoy in the corridor outside.

‘And just where do you think you’re going?’ McCoy demanded, tricorder already raised.

Spock submitted reluctantly to the scan, but had no intentions of staying.

‘Ambassador Selek has conveyed to me a potential method of finding Jim. He is certain from his own connections with Jim that he still lives.’

Doctor McCoy’s hand froze, his eyes flicking up to meet Spock’s own.

‘Oh, thank God. Think it’ll work?’

‘I can only try,’ Spock replied, recalling with a spike of empathy how close Jim and Leonard were. ‘It requires me to isolate myself, and attempt to reconnect the bond. I will go to the Bridge first to inform Lieutenant Commander Scott.’

McCoy nodded, the shadows beneath his eyes starkly visible now that Spock could concentrate on anything but the loss of Jim.

‘I’ll keep an eye on your vitals for however long it takes.’

‘I appreciate it… Leonard.’

Spock left him spluttering with a tiny thrill of satisfaction, moving quickly towards the nearest turbolift. A number of crewmembers started upon seeing him, evidently confused by his appearance after his isolation in Medbay, but he had no time to explain. He greeted them with a nod, grateful as they allowed him to overtake them in pursuit of the lift.

He stepped out onto the Bridge to an announcement of his presence by Ensign Chekov, diverting the attention of both Mister Scott and Nyota from Nyota’s station. Scott straightened and beckoned him over with a grim smile, pointing at Nyota’s viewscreen.

‘It’s good to see you up and about, Commander, but, ah, we just got a message from Prime Minister Eana.’

‘She said that a specialist team had been dispatched to an address in Pirilia,’ Nyota said, taking over. ‘They thought that’s where the origin of the holo was, but it turned out to be another re-route. They found nothing.’

While disappointed, the information that Selek had given him prevented him descending into total despair. He gave her a stiff nod, looking away from the pity in her eyes.

‘Please thank the Prime Minister for her continuing efforts. Lieutenant Commander, whilst I am certain that you are eager to return to Engineering, I need you to remain here for a few days longer.’

Scott visibly wilted, but responded nonetheless, ‘Yes, sir.’

‘The reason for that,’ Spock explained, ‘is that there might possibly be a way for me to locate the Captain. I must, however, be alone, and undisturbed for the most part.’

Both brightened as he elucidated, Nyota outright grinning, and her enthusiasm was infectious.

‘You go, sir,’ Mister Scott insisted, the way he leant into Nyota telling of something more than friendship. ‘I’ll take care of things up here.’

‘Thank you. If you need me, I will be in my quarters.’

Once in his bedroom, Spock could not help but look across to Jim’s quarters, as he so often did. Ever since Jim had been gone, he had left the doors open between their quarters, though he was unsure as to exactly why. He found that he missed the faint sounds of Jim moving about through the walls, even when those sounds had disturbed him from meditation, or sleep. He would give up any amount of sleep to have his t’hy’la back.

Lighting his incense candles, Spock was about to roll out his meditation mat when he heard a comm call come to Jim’s computer. He froze for a moment in indecision, but then found himself walking through into his bedroom, answering the call before he could think too much about doing so. After a crackle of static, a man with eyes startlingly similar to Jim’s appeared upon the screen, the sight sending a pulse of utter despair through Spock. The man was holding what appeared to be a newborn infant, swaddled tightly in a patterned blanket against his chest. The baby had similar features to both their father, and Jim.

‘Commander Spock, I presume?’ the man smiled, looking almost dazed with happiness. ‘I’m Sam, Jim’s brother. I was just calling to show him my son.’

He held the baby up to the camera to show Spock, and the little one made a whimpering sound of discontent, his sleepy electric blue eyes opening midway. Spock’s chest ached.

‘He was born two days ago, but I haven’t been able to get a signal since.’

‘Congratulations,’ Spock said softly, aware that what he must convey would be difficult to hear. ‘I am afraid I have much less positive news. Jim has been abducted.’

Sam’s smile slipped away his face growing visibly pallid despite the less than perfect clarity of the screen.

Hitching his child up, he asked roughly, ‘Where is he?’

‘We believe somewhere in the city of Pirilia on Euridian,’ Spock informed him, watching his eyes narrow with anger he himself had felt.

_‘Euridian?_ That’s ridiculously unstable. What the heck were you doing sending him there?’

‘Orders from Starfleet Command,’ Spock said bitterly, weathering his anger. ‘We are doing all we can to retrieve him.’

‘You’re sat in his room!’ Sam hissed, rocking the baby when he grizzled. ‘How is that going to help?’

Guilt twisted in Spock’s stomach; he found it difficult not to double over with the force of it.

‘I have been informed of a potential method of locating him, but I must be isolated. When I returned to my quarters, I heard your comm call.’

Sam’s jaw set, and he nodded, his lips tugging sourly down at the corners.

‘You’d better find him. He’s my baby brother, even if I didn’t act that way for a while.’

‘I will,’ Spock promised. His life would not be worth living if he failed. ‘Jim is more important to me than you know.’

He held Sam’s gaze for a beat too long, and Sam nodded slowly, bringing the baby up against his shoulder.

‘I believe you. Please, do what you can. And if I can help in any way, you know how to contact me. I want Jim to see his nephew. I want to see his children born too.’

So did Spock. In seeing the little one with features so similar to Jim’s own, Spock couldn’t help but imagine Jim’s own child. Their child. But now was not the time to linger on thoughts of the future. Spock ended the comm call with the assurance that he would not stop until Jim was found, then contacted the Bridge.

_‘Commander?’_ Nyota answered eagerly, perhaps under the impression that he had succeeded already in locating Jim.

‘Lieutenant, I have just received a call from the Captain’s brother. Please direct all future communications from him to myself should he ask.’

There was a hint of disappointment in her voice as she replied, though she hid it well.

_‘Yes, sir.’_

‘I am about to begin my attempt to locate the Captain. Contact me if I am needed. Spock out.’

As he made to leave, his chest squeezed as he noticed the signs of habitation in Jim’s room, undisturbed from when he’d left it. There was a book abandoned on his bedside table, a shirt thrown across the back of a chair, and Spock found his airway narrowing as he noticed more and more. He could no longer be in here. Returning quickly to his quarters, he once more prepared for meditation, focusing his energy on sinking into a shallow state of calm that he knew would be needed to return to the ruined bondspace.

His swirling emotions were chaotic enough that, for a while, he was unsuccessful, and he brutally suppressed the panic that arose, aware that it would only add to his troubles. Eventually, he was able to calm himself with the knowledge that the faster he did so, the more time he would save Jim from suffering. He did not relish the thought of returning to the hole left behind after their bond’s destruction, but he knew he must, for Jim’s sake. This time, he was not so tentative, approaching the silent void with that familiar lurch of dread. With only the slightest hesitation, he drew in a steady breath and stepped through into the dark, the newly-inhaled air being forced from his lungs. He had thought he was prepared for the pressure, having previously experienced it, but it remained a shock to his body nonetheless, crushing in its intensity.

Spock fought his way forward, struggling against resistance like that of a strong current as he waded further into the void, searching desperately for a sign of what had been lost. Before long, his muscles were aching with effort, both logic and instinct telling him to turn back, but he persevered, his heart skipping a beat when in the distance he saw a tiny glimmer of light. In his excitement, Spock lunged forward, but it seemed he had reached too quickly. Just as in his first attempt, he found himself thrown out of his own mind, an intense headache originating from his frontal lobe. Frustration drove his fist into the floor, the skin of his knuckles splitting upon contact. The pain registered minimally, but the majority of Spock’s attention was on his second failure, all too aware of how precious time was. Considering the atrocities committed by the previous leaders of Euridian, Spock did not wish to think about what damage they could be doing to his t’hy’la. Had he discovered the bond previously, had they solidified it, Spock could have questioned Jim as to his location immediately. But he had failed in that respect also. Jim was alone, Jim was quite possibly being tortured, and Jim still did not know of his affection.

Ignoring the thrum of pain in his hand, Spock spent the rest of the afternoon trying again and again to reach the light inside his head. He managed to move faster, and get closer each time, but the headache was only growing worse, and he eventually found that he could no longer concentrate enough for even a shallow meditative state. Cursing his own weakness, he checked in with the Bridge, then sent a message to Selek regarding his progress, knowing that he would not last through a comm call. His head now pounding in a way that gave him double vision, he collapsed fully-clothed on top of his bed, forcing his bodily systems into submission. He was asleep within minutes.

_Jim is beautiful in the lowlight of their quarters. He is stripping for bed, biceps thick as he reaches up to tug his undershirt over his head, and Spock feels desire coil low in his belly. Approaching quietly from behind, he draws Jim into his arms, enjoying both the warmth of his body, and the answering thrill of arousal he feels._

_‘T’hy’la,’ he whispers, slipping his arms around Jim’s waist._

_He separates his fingers, splaying them wide as he strokes over Jim’s stomach and chest, greedy for him. Leaning in closer, he drags his tongue over the exotic curve of Jim’s ear, enjoying the quiet hitch of his breath and the buck of his hips when he begins gently toying with a nipple._

_‘Adun,’ Jim says hoarsely, the word sparking pleasure in Spock as it always did. When Jim reached up to take hold of his biceps, his head dips forwards, his lips grazing his temple as Jim speaks. ‘Don’t tease me.’_

_‘You know that I do not like to rush with you,’ Spock growls, pinching his erect nipple between two fingers._

_Jim’s head lolls back in pleasure, and he takes advantage of his position to kiss and suck at the tender skin of Jim’s neck, marking him in a way he knows they both enjoy. Jim is his, and he is Jim’s, and seeing the love marks of the night before as they dress for duty is always a source of primal pleasure._

_‘Spock.’_

_He gasps at the feel of Jim’s hand reaching between them to squeeze his slick erection through his boxer shorts, and snatches it up to press his lips to the back of it, rolling his hips into Jim’s backside provocatively. He can smell Jim’s arousal, and it inflames him, his hand smoothing over Jim’s flat belly to tease at his waistband._

_‘Please. Oh,_ please, _love.’_

_As always, Spock cannot help but acquiesce. He lets out a shaky breath as sensitive fingers come into contact with Jim’s dripping cock, one sliding smoothly up the shaft and circling over the wetness at the tip. His hips begin rocking once more as Jim mewls weakly, his fingers drawing lines of Vulcan kisses over Jim’s erection and the sac beneath, the wet glide pleasuring him as much as Jim._

_‘E’tum,’ he murmurs, taking him in hand as he whimpers, grinding against him. ‘Ashal-veh.’_

_Jim thrusts desperately into his hand, and Spock holds him tighter in response, pulling Jim against his chest when his legs begin to tremble. The noises escaping Jim make his hips jerk, and when he drags his thumb over a familiar erogenous zone on Jim’s cock, he feels more than hears the moan as Jim turns to kiss him. He sucks roughly at Jim’s lower lip, licking into his mouth as his hand works Jim faster, tighter, until Jim lets out a cry of release, spurting over Spock’s hand and his own stomach. Despite his own pressing need, Spock halts the frantic movements of his hips in order to hold Jim while he drifts, soft lips parted as he pants in the afterglow. He nuzzles against one of Jim’s meld points, surprised by the speed at which he recovers enough to remove their underwear._

_‘Your turn, baby,’ Jim says breathlessly, arching into him as Spock rubs his swollen penis against him, groaning into his ear._

_Pressing himself closer, Spock strokes gently over his chest as he rocks his hips, a primal part of him satisfied by the slickness he is spreading across Jim’s skin. He hears Jim whine at the feel of it, and the sound forces a soft noise from his own throat, pleasure coiling tight inside him._

_‘Are you going to come for me? Come for me, ’shaya.’_

_Spock whimpers as Jim takes up his hand and begins sucking on two fingers, moaning unrestrainedly at the soft, wet heat around him. He chokes out Jim’s name and buries his face in his neck, holding tight to his hip as he ruts harder into him, feeling the coil of pleasure inside wind tighter. Arching into the hand that threaded into his hair, he lets out a ragged sob as Jim sucks harder, and he reaches breaking point._

_‘Oh! Oh,_ Jim.’

_He comes hard, fingers twitching in Jim’s mouth as he moans into his neck, overcome with ecstasy. Allowing himself a moment or two to recover, he lets his arm fall limp as Jim releases his hand, but as soon as his muscles regain their tone, he is holding Jim once more, enjoying the feeling of his taluhk-veh in his arms. Jim leans back against him with a giddy smile, looking so perfectly sated that Spock cannot help but reach out to cradle his face._

_‘I love you,’ Jim breathes, and Spock guides him into a soft, lingering kiss, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone._

_Spock parts from him reluctantly, leaning his forehead against Jim’s temple as he responds with breath still unsteady._

_‘And I you, beloved. Come, you are tired.’_

_He takes Jim by the hand and leads him to the fresher, cleaning up the mess they have made before guiding him to bed, lowering the temperature a little, for Jim’s sake. As one, they reach for one another, Spock’s arm curling around Jim’s shoulders as Jim cuddles into his chest, the warmth he is exuding more than enough to keep Spock comfortable throughout the night._

In Spock’s consciousness, the glimmer of light he had seen flickered like a candle flame in wind, unsteady, but alive. And although he was unaware of it, thirty thousand kilometres below, the flare in his t’hy’la’s mind was doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? There's a lot of exhausting emoting going on for Spock here, but this is essentially an extended warp core/Khan scene with no one yet to blame - Spock is devastated. But now that he knows Jim is alive... :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know if you did in a comment below, and if anyone wants to check out my Trek tumblr, it's right [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/). We're looking at 2-3 weeks again for the next update - just depends how busy I am with work - but I'll post about it on tumblr when I'm more certain. Hope everyone has a great weekend!


	11. None Can Dim Its Glow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one small explicit scene of violence in this chapter, and a number of non-explicit mentions of sexual assault - be safe, guys.

Gentle hands cradled Jim’s face, and warm brown eyes met his with such a look of love that Jim’s chest ached. As much as he wanted to give in, to melt into Spock’s arms, he knew he couldn’t. Closing his burning eyes, he turned his face away slightly – though not enough to displace Spock’s hands – cursing his inability to resist him. He’d grown wise to Faeral’s tricks over the past few days, among which were included increasingly intricate illusions that Spock loved him, designed to inflict maximum pain. Spock might have been everything Jim wanted, but he was no masochist.

‘Jim?’

‘You’re not real,’ he whispered, voice choked with emotion.

He shivered, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut as Spock’s - **_not_** _-Spock’s_ \- thumb stroked over the rise of his cheekbones, the other hand gently pressing into his lower back, pulling him close. Despite his own reservations, Jim did not pull away.

‘Ka’i, ashaya,’ came the murmured reply, the warm purr of it making Jim shudder with want. ‘It is me. This is real.’

Fresh tears stung Jim’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t let Faeral see him cry. Going limp under the illusion’s hands, he set his jaw and remained silent, knowing that the more he reacted, the more Faeral would get off on it. After a quiet exhale which sounded eerily like Spock’s version of a sigh, he found himself wrapped entirely in strong arms, and not-Spock nuzzled at his temple. Jim struggled not to melt into him. It felt so _real._ Faeral had never taken it this far before, but that didn’t mean anything. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes when the illusion tilted his chin up, watching him so intensely that Jim couldn’t look away. When Spock – **_not_** _-Spock_ – ran a thumb over his lower lip, his heart skipped a beat, fantasy momentarily becoming reality. There was such love in those beautiful brown eyes that he lost what little breath he had left, stillness settling over him.

‘My love,’ Spock said quietly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Jim closed his eyes once more as the tip of his nose was also kissed; there was a pause after that, but he did not open them again. ‘My James.’

There was a shaky kind of reverence to Spock’s voice, so authentic that Jim doubted for a moment that it really _was_ Faeral, and not his own imagination. Cautiously, he curled his hands into the material of Spock’s shirt where they were resting, his fingers twitching when he felt the warmth of Spock’s breath against his mouth. Soft lips pressed against his in a barely-there kiss, and Jim reciprocated ever so slightly, unable to stop his mouth going pliant beneath Spock’s own. When they parted, gently, slowly, Jim expected Faeral to emerge, triumphant at Jim’s weakness. But as time passed, there remained only the crook of Spock’s neck beneath his head, and the security of his arms around him. Confused, Jim tried to look up, to back away a little, but Spock’s arms only tightened.

_Fun-tor nash-veh. Fun-tor nash-veh, k’diwa.’_

Though he could feel the vibrations of the word beneath his ear, they sounded like they were spoken from far, far away, and to his distress, Spock seemed to be melting away beneath him. He opened his eyes to the cell once more, the cold immediately setting in. Faeral was nowhere to be seen – not yet, anyway – and even more strangely, the feeling of the kiss lingered. He swiped his tongue across his lower lip, tasting something sweet and unfamiliar, then settled back against the wall with a sigh, more wary than ever. It couldn’t have been his Spock. Even if the bond had been real, it was gone; the constant ache in his head proved that.

Forcing his thoughts away from the bond and the hurt it would inevitably cause, Jim peered at the strip of dim light at the base of the door, wondering how many days he’d been there. He thought it might have been a week or so, but with Euridian’s suns rising and setting at different times, he’d lost track. In the beginning, he’d been so certain that Spock and the others would be able to bust him out, but as time went on, he was less and less sure. They obviously didn’t know where he was, and with him being more willing to die than give up any trade secrets, it was unclear whether Faeral would want him alive in the long-term. He didn’t seem like the most patient guy.

Recently, Faeral really had begun to fuck with his head. Jim had begun having nightmares again, much more intense than those he experienced normally, interspersed with visions that Faeral had implanted. Illusions of a happy life with Spock, of complete and utter rejection – both featured nightly in his dreams, and he felt naked and vulnerable beneath Faeral’s manipulation. Faeral had also been rougher over the last few days, frustration evidently beginning to show. Jim’s broken arm had been yanked about so many times that he worried vaguely that it might never heal again, the bone jagged in such a way that he could see where it poked awkwardly out of place underneath his skin. Every time it was disturbed felt like an electric shock, white-hot pain ricocheting up from the break, and Faeral seemed to take distinct pleasure in seeing it.

Crawling slowly into a seated position, Jim began his daily routine of checking out the cell, just in case Faeral had left anything lying around that might help him. As usual, he was disappointed, but he lived in hope. Then, he exercised all he could with short chains and a compound fracture, though despite all best efforts, he’d noticed himself getting steadily weaker as Faeral’s attacks increased in frequency. Breakfast was the other half of last night’s food, the same slop he’d been fed since the beginning. It was terrible, but edible, and when he’d finished the last of it, he made sure to push the tray away enough that he wouldn’t spill the partly-full glass of water that remained, determined not to waste it.

Once he’d returned to his place without jarring his arm, he sat and stared at the strip of light shining underneath the door, mocking him with its freedom of movement. Faeral came and went as he chose, often with hours or days between visits, and Jim was left tense in his absence, bracing himself for what was to come. It was at times like this that he thought about the crew, hoping that everyone was all right without him. Of course, he wasn’t arrogant enough to assume that he was their whole life, but it would be false modesty to say that he wasn’t well-liked. By making sure to be friendly, and taking an interest in them as individuals rather than a single entity, he had ensured that the crew trusted him, and he liked to think that they felt they could approach him. Like Jacob, who’d been doing so much better after his tormentors had been removed. Jim hoped that Spock was keeping an eye on him, no matter how intense his efforts to find him.

With nothing to do except get lost in his own thoughts, Jim found himself drifting over the next few hours, dreading the moment that the door would open to Faeral once more. After an indeterminate amount of time, one of the grunts came in to exchange his old tray with a new one, a wordless encounter during which Jim did absolutely nothing to help. Luckily, they didn’t seem to want to chat either, so Jim’s head remained – at least for now – his own. Loathe to do nothing, he’d begun over the past week to try and strengthen his mental barriers, though he had no idea whether he was helping or not. He might not have been entirely psi-null, but humans weren’t a telepathic species, and with no one to guide him, he felt a little like he was making a shot in the dark. Still, he didn’t give up; he wasn’t the type. Maybe if he got back to the Enterprise whole, Spock would be proud of him.

That is, if he didn’t avoid Jim like the plague.

Jim wouldn’t blame him, he supposed. He’d had a lot of time to sit and think recently, and over time, he’d come to realise that no matter how deep his feelings were for Spock, he couldn’t blame him for not reciprocating. While seeing him in any romantic capacity with Nyota felt like a stab in the gut, that was Spock’s choice, and he had to respect that. Even if his heart felt like it might beat right out of his chest when they were close. Even if all his dreams of the future involved being with him. He shouldn’t be surprised. After all, who ever wanted Jim Kirk for more than a night? An easy fuck – that’s what the Tarsus guards had called him, and maybe it was true, despite the fact that he hadn’t slept with anyone since before the mission that ended in his death. No matter what happened, he’d rather suffer for the rest of his life than lose Spock’s friendship – he was far, far too precious to give up.

Hearing footsteps approach from outside, Jim stood shakily, working the blood back through his numb legs as he kept an eye on the door, determined not to seem weak in front of Faeral. It was about time for his daily torture session – best to get it over with. Faeral’s entrance was dramatic as ever, the door slamming dully against the wall as he flung it open, his face already set in a sullen pout. Great. It looked like he was in the _best_ mood.

‘I’m beginning to get bored of returning every day, Captain,’ came the drawled greeting, lazily spoken. ‘It’s a shame that I’m so talented - there are no others here that could push you the way I do.’

Somehow, Jim doubted that, but he wasn’t about to shoot his mouth off to be given a better torturer.

‘Good to know,’ he muttered in response, drawing tight the quivering muscles in his back and legs, wanting to stand up straight before him.

‘Is it really?’ Faeral breathed, letting the door swing shut behind him with a slam that made Jim’s fingers twitch. ‘I expected by now that you would be a wreck. I must say, you’ve exceeded my expectations.’

‘Want me to thank you?’

Faeral stared at him for a second too long; Jim had always been disturbed by the deadness in his eyes.

‘No, but I would rather like it if you would cooperate. Come on, Jim, we feed you every day, we treat you far better than the prisoners that languished in our palace. Although-’ He wrinkled his nose, gills flaring slightly. ‘You could do with a hosing down. You’re really starting to smell. But apart from that, what more could you want?’

‘Freedom,’ Jim bit out, gritting his teeth against the nagging pain in his temples. ‘Freedom to return to my ship and my people.’

‘And freedom you shall get if you only comply.’ Faeral sighed like a parent scolding their child for the hundredth time. ‘I’m not sure how many times I need to say this before it sinks in.’

‘And I’m not sure how many times I need to tell you no before _that_ sinks in.’

‘As I’m sure you well know,’ Faeral began, his smile cruel, ‘the word ‘no’ means little when there is a power imbalance.’

Jim clenched his fists at his side until the dry skin of his knuckles began to split, but he managed to bite back the fury that rose in him.

‘Well, it means something here,’ he said tightly, suppressing a wince as he accidentally straightened his broken arm. ‘Like you said, forcing information out of me would kill me.’

‘True, but wouldn’t you rather be able to go home? We’ll never let you go, Captain. Not until you give us what we want. And with the measures we’ve taken, your crew will never find you. You’re destined for quite a miserable life if you choose not to cooperate.’

That, Jim knew. In lieu of an answer, he tilted his chin up stubbornly, feeling a mixture of anger and humiliation at Faeral’s derisive laugh.

‘Oh, look at you. Do you think you’re capable of resistance, Captain? Your legs shake as you stand, and the wound on your arm is beginning to fester. How much longer do you think you’ll be able to hold out against me?’

‘As long as I need to,’ Jim said roughly, repressing the urge to look down at his arm.

‘Such bravery,’ Faeral mocked, stepping closer. ‘Or should I call it stupidity? Either way, your resolve won’t last forever.’

Jim was tense from head to toe, all cornered animal with nowhere to run, and when Faeral reached out to grasp his shoulder, he remained frozen, unsure as to whether it was because of something Faeral was doing to him, or his own wretched fear. At first, it was like any other time – Faeral certainly wasn’t gentle, and Jim cringed away from the intrusion, the void in his mind throbbing fiercely. Awareness of reality left him entirely, memory fading until Euridian escaped him entirely, and he was back on his girl, standing across from Spock in his quarters.

Hopeful and nervous, his eyes flickered over Spock’s strangely blank ones, smiling anxiously.

‘So… yeah. That’s it, I guess.’

Silence.

Jim looked away, a pit of dread yawning wide in his stomach as the quiet stretched on and on, his whole body growing cold. When he at last gained the courage to meet Spock’s eyes, he found no warmth there, only a detachment which he felt like a smack in the face. Spock had always had human eyes.

‘I do not reciprocate.’

It was said quickly enough, bluntly enough that Jim took a second to process the words, blinking hard. Hope died with a flash of pain in his chest, Jim’s hands clasping behind his back in a way so similar to Spock’s habit in an effort to stop the shaking.

‘I am already in a relationship, as you well know,’ Spock continued, the lack of emotion in his voice turning Jim’s stomach. ‘Therefore I find it difficult to comprehend why you would attempt to sabotage that with a declaration of sexual interest.’

‘Spock, I didn’t- I didn’t know, I swear! And it’s not sexual interest, it’s-’

‘Furthermore,’ Spock interrupted, drawing himself up as stiffly as Jim had ever seen him, ‘I do not understand why you would humiliate yourself in the pursuit of intercourse. If I were to begin a relationship with a human male, it would certainly not be with yourself.’

Jim felt sick, an icy shudder rolling up his body. He was almost afraid to ask.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, his voice breaking even in a whisper.

Spock eyed him with dispassion as he blinked back tears, eyebrows drawing ever so slightly together.

‘You are not a suitable partner for a Vulcan, nor, I believe, for any being who wishes for an exclusive intimate relationship. You appear to be incapable of monogamy, or a connection beyond that of genitalia, and Vulcans require a deep mental bond. In addition, you cannot bear children.’

God, Spock might as well have stabbed him. If he knew how much Jim wanted him, how much he wanted a family with him… but he did, didn’t he?

‘There are ways,’ he said weakly, leaning against his desk in an attempt to still the wretched trembling, ‘and I’ve never cheated on anyone, I swear to god, Spock. I _love_ you.’

He blurted the last few words desperately, looking up at Spock with pleading eyes, but he appeared unmoved. As he raised his chin, looking down at Jim with barely-concealed disdain, Jim knew he had lost. He’d never been in the game to begin with.

‘As I said, Captain, I do not reciprocate. Please desist your unwanted advances. I intend to ask Nyota to bond with me in the coming weeks.’

It felt as if someone were tightening a noose around Jim’s windpipe. Dumbly, he motioned for Spock to leave, unable to speak for fear of falling apart in front of him. As he did so, however, Spock flickered, almost like a glitch in a hologram. Despite his devastation, Jim looked up with narrow eyes.

‘Are you unwell, sir?’ Spock asked stiffly, as if the whole universe hadn’t rippled.

‘No,’ Jim murmured, memory returning in fragments, ‘but I think you might be.’

‘I am unsure as to what you mean.’

The whole room flickered this time, revealing the cavity of the broken bond, and Faeral’s image appearing to rifle through what Jim knew to be far more important than his own life.

‘Get out!’ he spat, pushing the illusion of Spock out of the way. His quarters blinked out of existence, but Faeral didn’t look up, consumed by a visible hunger. ‘I _said,_ get out!’

Jim went running towards him, trying desperately to reshuffle and reinforce the parts of him that held information about Starfleet, but he was pushed back by Faeral, suspended in motion. As Faeral tore into his memories, there was blistering pain, akin to the tearing open of barely-healed wounds, and Jim fought against his bonds, ignoring how the pain worsened in his desperation. Faeral seemed to be struggling to contain him as he writhed, and just as he appeared to be turning his attention away from the memories, Jim expended almighty effort, and the hold on him ruptured. Faeral’s eyes flashed with something akin to panic, but Jim was far too consumed in rage and pain to notice, driving forward with unexpected intensity. There was a struggle; Jim did not know how to stop him, but he knew that he _must,_ with all that was at stake. He pushed and pushed, driving Faeral away from his ‘Fleet secrets, then further still, until with a sudden shove, he found himself somewhere entirely unfamiliar.

_‘Weakling!’_

_A group of young Euridian boys surround one who is clearly physically weaker, purple-red blood smeared across his chin from the cut on his lip that bleeds sluggishly. The ringleader, tall and harelipped, smirks down at him, superiority written across his face._

**_Come now, cousin. One punch should hardly fell a royal._ **

_Faeral’s teeth bare in a feral growl, and he staggers to his feet, starting forwards. Two of the group step in front of his cousin, as they so often do._

**_And how would you know, Knair? I hardly think you’ve ever experienced a punch. Coward._ **

_Young Knair’s face darkens considerably, and he motions his bodyguards forth._

**_The future king is, and should be, untouchable,_ ** _he spits, and Faeral laughs bitterly, dragging himself to his feet._

**_Perhaps you will not make your coronation, if you do not learn how to defend yourself_ ** _._

**_Is that a threat?_ ** _Knair snarled, but before Faeral could answer, he flicked an imperious hand once more, and the two boys between them moved to attack Faeral, flooring him in a moment._

_And so it continues; Knair is groomed for kingship, his childless uncle inexplicably fond of his brutish nephew, and Faeral is cast aside. Bitter in his exclusion, he becomes disproportionally cruel, bullying younger children and harming animals, devoted to punishing those who once punished him. Over time, his sadistic nature becomes legendary amongst his people – something of which he is strangely proud. One by one, his previous tormentors vanish, in quite ordinary circumstances for Euridian, until only Knair remains._

_The revolution begins with a literal bang, as the royal palace is destroyed, freeing political prisoners from the grasp of the regime, and killing a number of the royal family. Knair vows revenge, and Faeral alongside him. Although they are aligned in purpose, and there have been few disagreements over the last few years, Faeral has never forgotten the way Knair treated him as a child. They fight together against the common people, across Pirilia and its surrounds, until the bitter end of the conflict draws near. As the enemy approaches, and many of their compatriots have fled or surrendered, the two of them stand together in the ruins of the palace, unprotected by what remains of once-fortified walls. Knair is panicking._

**_Perhaps it is better if you take a greater proportion of invaders to fight. After all, you have proved yourself an impressive challenger._ **

**_What?_ ** _Faeral snorts, dagger in hand. **And let you run away like the coward you are? I told you years ago, Knair, you must learn how to defend yourself if you want to live.**_

**_I am no coward,_ ** _Knair growls, rounding on him._

**_You could have fooled me._ **

_Knair snarls, but his attention turns towards the sound of approaching footsteps, a dozen or more coming at them from behind dilapidated doors. Now is Faeral’s chance. He’s waited for this moment for years, ever since that very first humiliation; there is little hesitation. Before Knair can react, he lunges forward and draws the dagger across his throat. There is a drawn-out gurgling, and Knair’s hands rise shakily to press against the spurting gash, his knees appearing to weaken. There is no time to stay and watch. Casting the dagger aside, he leaves his cousin to collapse as something heavy pounds against the door, dashing through a hidden side door with triumph in his heart. He does not look back._

Faeral’s withdrawal from Jim’s mind felt like a twisting knife being yanked out of his head, leaving behind a tearing, throbbing pain that made him physically cringe. When he dared to look up, he found Faeral pallid and silent, and yet the mad fury in his eyes overruled any relief Jim might have felt at his restraint. Jim didn’t dare speak, hardly dared _breathe_ in the face of such unnerving rage, but he tried not to show the fear that skittered up his spine.

 _‘You-’_ Faeral choked, cutting himself off. ‘How _dare_ you?’

Jim hadn’t meant to – hadn’t even known he had the ability – but he wasn’t sorry. After all Faeral had done to him, he deserved it. It was a pity Jim probably wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone that he murdered his cousin.

‘Not nice to be on the receiving end, is it?’

Faeral roared, yanking him forward by his shoulder until they were mere inches apart. Jim winced as his broken arm was disturbed, his nerves screaming, but he bit the inside of his mouth until he could taste iron so as not to make a sound.

**You would know, Captain, wouldn’t you?**

The words hurt, both literally and figuratively; Jim heard the threat within, and shuddered. With what seemed to be great effort, Faeral twisted his trembling mouth into a horrible smile, and Jim went cold.

_No._

Jim struggled violently against his bonds in anticipation of what he knew was to come, desperate not to re=experience what he’d tried so hard to forget. His efforts were in vain, despite his desperation, and he felt Faeral enter his mind insidiously, so different from the way he usually invaded. He was 27. He was _27._ He was…

He was ten, and Frank was drunk. He was _always_ drunk, but tonight even more so, and Jim was alone with him. Sam had escaped to a friend’s house for the week – how Jim envied him! – and Mom was three months deep into another mission, her contact with home spotty at best. Dread had pulled at his belly all day, distracting him even more than usual from far too simple lessons, and although his teacher had scolded him several times, she didn’t keep him behind after class. She never did. Sometimes Jim wondered if she knew more than what she said.

While all the others had left quickly at the end of the school day, he’d dawdled on the way back to the farmhouse, kicking stray gravel down the road as he walked. He’d considered hiding out somewhere until Frank passed out, but he knew tomorrow’s consequences would be horrendous. His only hope was to keep quiet, to fade into the background as much as possible, but with his defiant brother away for now, he wasn’t so sure that that would work. His stomach felt like it was tying itself in knots as he approached the farmhouse with a strap of his bag clutched in a white-knuckled hand, praying that Frank would already be asleep. Not much chance of that before five, even for him, but all Jim could do was hope.

Cringing at the squeak of unoiled hinges, Jim crept through the front door, hoping to make a break for the stairs, but he had no such luck. As he passed through the kitchen, he jumped in fright at the sight of Frank slumped at the table with a beer in hand, face already ruddy from the drink. By now, Jim could tell he was drunk from the set of his jaw, and although he’d only eaten a pilfered sandwich and an apple all day, any lingering hunger evaporated at the sight. Despite his light-footedness, and Frank’s inebriation, Frank always seemed to notice his presence when Sam wasn’t there. Today was no exception.

‘Boy,’ he grunted, his voice freezing Jim in place by the doorway. ‘C’mere.’

Jim rocked from heel to toe in indecision, uncertain whether acquiescence or disobedience would be worse. After a short pause, he miserably did as he was told, dropping his bag by the door as he went. If it was still attached to him, he wasn’t sure it’d survive the night. With stiff limbs, he stood nervously in front of Frank, correctly anticipating the clumsy fist that swung into his belly. Despite Frank’s less than perfect coordination, it was propelled with such force that it almost made Jim expel what little he had left in his stomach. He doubled over, winded and gasping, looking up with eyes he couldn’t stop from tearing.

‘That was for not coming straight away,’ Frank drawled, without remorse. ‘I need you to go upstairs for me. We owe some money, and this is how we get to keep the house. It’s a one off – your brother or you, and I guess it’s your lucky day, kid.’

Jim was confused. Didn’t his mom pay for the house? She sent money home to Frank every month, Jim knew. Maybe the money hadn’t come this month. But how would going upstairs solve the problem?

‘Don’t ask questions,’ Frank snapped, before he had the chance. The stink of alcohol on his breath travelled across the distance between them, making Jim’s nose wrinkle. ‘Just go. The spare room.’

Instinct told Jim to bolt, but he didn’t know where he’d go even if he did. Frank’s eyes glinted as he stood mutely, but when he began leaning forwards, Jim jerked into action, having learnt his lesson about dawdling already. With a thumping heart, he climbed the stairs, dread weighing him down as he dragged himself towards the spare room. He didn’t know what was in there, but knowing Frank, it couldn’t be good. Hovering outside the door, he stiffened in fear at the sound of breathing coming from inside – definitely not that of Sam. Tentatively, he reached out and turned the door handle, stilling in the doorway at the sight of one of Frank’s buddies sat on the end of the bed. Jim didn’t know his name, but he recognised the leer across his face, even if he didn’t understand it.

‘Shut the door behind you.’

What followed had become the source of nightmares up until Tarsus, after which Jim’s mind had discovered fresh trauma to focus upon, repressing the memory to the point that Jim had all but forgotten it. When he emerged from it, he fought with his gag reflex until he could swallow the urge to vomit, his stomach churning threateningly. Staring at the ground, he didn’t want to look up at Faeral until he had at least partly gathered himself. He had experienced the whole violation as if he had been there again, could feel the burning, stinging pain of it in distressingly intimate places, and although he knew on an intellectual level that it was only a memory, neither his body nor his emotions recognised that.

Determined not to cower in front of the bastard who had raped his mind, Jim swallowed bile and sat up straight, wincing at the reignited pain of old injuries. Faeral looked surprisingly grim, expression one of distaste rather than of satisfaction, leaning back against the opposite wall.

‘Feel like talking yet?’

‘Go to hell,’ Jim said roughly, throat burning as if he’d been screaming – which, in a sense, he supposed he had.

Faeral sighed, seemingly exasperated.

‘This could all be avoided if you would only give me a little information, you know. Just your treaty information. Trade agreements. Anything.’

‘I’m no traitor,’ Jim spat, loathing him for what he’d done. ‘You’ll get nothing from me.’

With a scornful sigh, Faeral pushed his way off the wall, coming to rest just far enough away from Jim that Jim knew he wouldn’t be able to reach if he lashed out at him.

‘Everybody breaks eventually,’ Faeral warned, his arm shooting out so quickly to grasp Jim’s arm that Jim didn’t have time to react before he was paralysed beneath his grasp. ‘The only difference is the amount of persuasion needed to convince them… no?’

Despite his inability to speak, Jim continued to glare, defiant to the last.

‘Very well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Though resolute, Jim couldn’t deny the terror he felt as reality warped once more, and he was back in the barren wasteland that was Tarsus, surrounded by a ring of palace guards. It seemed that Faeral was improving in his sadism. Everything felt as real as it once had: the foul stench of rotting crops that curled into the back of his throat; the aching emptiness of his belly; the dirty, disgusting hands upon him. Trapped in this hell with his mind screaming for escape, one after another, he experienced every assault that had been perpetrated against him, fighting with everything his body was telling him to remember that it wasn’t real. As time went on, however, and he realised that Faeral wasn’t going to stop, his perception of reality warped. All resistance left him in a rush of hopelessness, and he fell limp as he had long ago, feeling hollow down to his bones.

When he woke, he was alone.

There was that same wretched dripping that he’d managed to tune out before, but silence besides that, and the audible pounding in Jim’s head. He felt like he’d been broken apart and put back together again in the wrong way, with everything out of place. Unlike the injuries he’d sustained before, the pain he’d felt in reliving the assaults against him was gone, though the trauma of it certainly wasn’t. He’d buried all he could long ago, after Tarsus, when they’d tried to get him in with a psychiatrist. Trying to distract himself had seemed far preferable to talking about how _dirtyfilthydisgusting_ they’d made him feel, how arousal had disappeared for a long, _long_ time, and it was only with time that he’d healed enough to feel okay again. But now, with the phantom feel of rough hands on his body, that familiar storm of anger and misery and self-loathing twisted round and round in his head, consuming rational thought almost entirely.

Cradling his abused broken arm against his chest, Jim curled up against the wall, crying freely. He didn’t think he’d have the energy to stop if he tried. He felt just like he had after Tarsus; untouchable and _used,_ and despite knowing that nothing had physically happened to him, he couldn’t stop himself shaking. Maybe this was it. Maybe he’d been hidden well enough that the crew would never find him, and he’d spend his days reliving the horrors of his past for Faeral’s amusement. He’d never see Spock again, never see Bones, or the crew, or the Enterprise again. The very thought sickened him. He’d never give up Starfleet information, no matter what they did. If that meant suffering here until the day Faeral snapped and killed him, then so be it. In a way, he hoped that day came sooner rather than later.

Burying his head in his arms, Jim barely noted the commotion outside, so consumed was he by the unremitting ache of the broken bond, and the trauma of what he’d just experienced. There was a great deal of shouting which sounded to him as if he were hearing it from underwater, the sound dulled and blurring together. It could just have been the people in the camp – they frequently argued, which was unsurprising, given how brutish the group seemed to be. Yet there was also a repetitive high-pitched sound that cut through the low roar of shouting, and when Jim blearily raised his head, he saw flashes coming from beneath the door. Phaser fire. Hope, however inadvertent, flared brightly.

Nonetheless, when he heard a crash against the door, he flinched, backing up against the wall. The phasers could be anyone – it could be that Faeral had been deposed in favour of an even crueller leader, or a territory skirmish between Faeral’s group and another. Wary, Jim curled into a ball, cradling his broken arm against his chest in anticipation of another assault. The crashes against the door kept coming, until it burst inwards with a splintering of wood, a shadowy figure haloed in the bright light streaming in. Shielding his burning eyes, Jim cringed at the rapid approach of footsteps, and it wasn’t until a hand ghosted gently across his lank hair that he dared look up. With a phaser clutched in one hand, and the other caressing Jim’s face, Spock watched him with eyes so full of affection that Jim couldn’t repress a sob.

‘Are you… is this..?’

Spock’s eyes softened further, thumb stroking over the arc of his cheekbone. His hands felt far warmer than they ever had in Faeral’s illusions.

‘I am here now, t’hy’la. You are safe.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. As some of you may already know if you follow me on tumblr, the reason that this chapter took the full three weeks was because I live near to where the Manchester bombing happened last week. My family, friends and I are all fine, but people we know are connected to some of those who died, and as the bomb went off in the arena above a train station we visit all the time, we were all more than a little shaken. So yeah, writing has had to go on the backburner for the last week or so. Thank you to those of you who have already expressed your well-wishes to me on tumblr, and please be aware that it is still a really sensitive issue for some English people at the moment.
> 
> That being said, I don't want to dwell too much on last week. I really hope everyone enjoyed this chapter - I know it must have been a difficult read for some of you, but we're reaching the light at the end of the tunnel now. We've still got a way to go with the story, but the first half or so is coming to an end. Please do let me know if you liked it - your comments really do give me a lovely boost! If you want to have a look at my tumblr, it's right [here](https://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/), and I hope everyone has a good weekend :)
> 
> Vulcan translations:  
> 'Ka’i, ashaya' - I am here, love  
> 'Fun-tor nash-veh. Fun-tor nash-veh, k’diwa.' - Return to me. Return to me, [k'diwa: shortened version of k'hat'n'dlawa, one who is 'half of my heart and soul in its deepest sense']
> 
> EDIT: Next chapter will arrive in 2-3 weeks!


	12. Searching For Sunshine

‘In any other situation, I would advise you to have patience, but I am aware that that does not apply here.’

Spock injured hand coiled into a fist in his lap, the pain burning across his knuckles barely registering as they split once more. He would have to get it dressed properly if he did not wish it to become infected; he could not afford serious health issues to interfere any more with his search for Jim.

‘It has been three days, elder.’ His voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself, swallowing hard. ‘It has been _eight_ since Jim was taken. I am not certain that we have much time.’

Selek’s eyes contained such sympathy and melancholy that Spock had to look away, unable to take on the burden of another’s pain in addition to his own.

‘I have faith that the strength of your connection to Jim will lead you to him,’ Selek said softly, his words offering no comfort to Spock. ‘The light is a good sign. You must focus on gentling your approach; eagerness is natural, but it will not help you reach him.’

Spock nodded stiffly, itching to get away and try again.

‘Your – _our_ – father would like to speak with you before you go.’

Before Spock could reply – or protest – Selek had gone, and Sarek soon replaced him. He and Spock had spoken a number of times over the last few days, and despite his turmoil, Spock had still managed to be pleasantly surprised by Sarek’s reaction to the revelation that they were t’hy’lara. Even in these trying circumstances, he had congratulated Spock, and advised Spock to inform Jim as soon as possible upon his return. Perhaps his mother’s death had softened his father, but Spock saw little disapproval from him anymore. As Sarek appeared onscreen, his expression was as neutral as ever, but there was a glint in his eye that spoke of concern.

‘How are you faring?’

Spock closed his eyes against the question, feeling somewhat ill. While his father’s attention was something he habitually craved, now, every second that slipped by felt dangerously wasted.

‘Not well,’ he admitted, exhaustion exhibiting itself in his aching head. ‘I feel as if little progress has been made. There is nothing I wish more than for Jim to come home, and yet it seems that my efforts to locate him are fruitless. I need him, Sa-mekh.’

‘I know,’ Sarek said quietly. ‘I have thus far been unsuccessful in tracing the message sent by the Captain’s abductors, as has your counterpart. Spock…’

He visibly hesitated, and Spock’s attention returned from where it had been drifting towards his next mental strategy.

‘I do not say this to upset you. But I know what it is to lose my k’diwa. Perhaps… perhaps it would be best to prepare for the eventuality that Jim may not be-’

‘No.’ It was unprecedented for Spock to interrupt his father, and certainly not with such a tone, but he would not let that sentence come to an end. ‘I will find him.’

‘I do not doubt your persistence, Spock.’

Spock shook his head furiously at the unspoken words, unable to even imagine the possibility of never seeing Jim again.

‘I will not lose him. I will _not.’_

‘As you say,’ Sarek murmured, acquiescing with an ease that made Spock doubt his sincerity. ‘I did not mean to upset you, sa-fu.’

‘I know,’ Spock said shortly, his patience at an end.

Sarek nodded, a tiny crease appearing in his brow.

‘I will leave you now. Should you need me, I will answer your call, day or night.’

The call ended with a shared ta’al, and before settling back into meditation, Spock placed a call to Medbay to ask Doctor McCoy to tend to his injury. Clearly aware of Spock’s need to concentrate on locating Jim, Leonard readily agreed, and Spock lit the incense once more, settling into position. Having become skilled at ignoring the pain that it caused him to enter the void, he did so willingly, setting his jaw against the terrible pressure. He could see the light, but as usual, it seemed just out of reach. Making his way doggedly towards it, he noticed a strange ripple in the pressure he felt, before it intensified all of a sudden, throwing him out of his attempt. When he came to, disorientated, Leonard was sat beside him, running a tricorder over his damaged hand.

‘What did you do? Punch a wall?’

‘The floor,’ Spock said absently, concerned about what that sudden pressure had meant for Jim. ‘Something is wrong.’

‘Yeah, if _you’re_ punching the floor,’ McCoy agreed, before taking in his expression. The hands examining his own stilled. ‘Or do you mean for Jim?’

‘The latter. I felt something odd in the bondspace. A sudden increase in pressure, as if I were weighed down by gravity.’

‘Know what that means?’

Spock’s lips thinned.

‘No.’ He lifted his hand obligingly for the skin to be regenerated. ‘I will try again.’

‘Be careful,’ Leonard cautioned, and Spock nodded, sparing no more time for conversation as he returned to the edge of the cavern, and stepping through without fear.

At first, the pressure was as usual, but then the ripple returned, and Spock braced himself against the oncoming winds, refusing to be cast out again. He fought his way forward, and the distant light became visible once more, casting a dim, but stable, glow into the darkness. Excitement rose in him; he had never reached this far in before. Still, he knew he must be careful, particularly with this new sense of instability, the air around him shifting and pulsing oddly. As he approached, the light flickered, then flared brightly, and in an instant, Spock’s perspective was no longer his own. A wave of anguish, then of fury, passed over him as he saw the horrors with which his t’hy’la was being tormented, Jim’s distress palpable even within the fractured bond. Driven by Jim’s need, Spock sought to draw inside himself something of Jim’s mind – a thread, a memory, _anything_ – in order to locate him. He knew he was successful when he could feel Jim’s presence almost as a part of himself, and the golden thread that had once formed their bond began, almost tentatively, to emerge from the darkness. It sought its partner, its other half; Spock could see that in the way it twisted and turned, searching blindly.

_Not yet,_ he cautioned, his heart aching for Jim. _Soon._

The thread of Jim’s presence was faint – a mere echo – but Spock knew that it would be enough. He allowed himself a moment of elation as he drew it close to his chest, then emerged from his mind with haste, coming face-to-face with Leonard. At the sight of him, Leonard’s brow crinkled, but not in his usual irritable manner.

‘You got somethin’?’

‘Yes,’ Spock breathed, rising immediately to his feet. ‘Jim remains in the vicinity of Pirilia. There is an encampment… I will be able to locate him, but we must return to Euridian now.’

‘Is he okay?’ Leonard demanded, as Spock ushered him from the room.

Spock’s chest tightened at the question, his hands working on autopilot to draw up a three-dimensional map of Pirilia on his padd.

‘I am not certain. You must come with me.’

Leonard agreed without protest, diverting to Medbay in order to collect more equipment, and Spock made his way straight to the transporter room, contacting the Bridge on the way to assemble an away team, and to inform Eana that they would be arriving shortly. The elation that had come before had evaporated, replaced by an urgency like none other, and a growing fury at Jim’s captors, almost feral in its nature. His instinct to protect his t’hy’la eclipsed all else, and he forewent the usual greetings he would make as he passed his crewmates in the corridor, desperation rocketing his heartrate. Considering the holo, and what he had seen in Jim’s mind, he certainly wasn’t being treated well. The very thought of what he must have suffered tore at Spock’s composure, the bond desperately seeking to reform itself.

Upon his arrival in the transporter room, he found an away team formed of mostly Security officers, with Lieutenant Commander Giotto at the forefront of the group. It seemed as though his previous injury had had little effect on his confidence, having already briefed and armed his officers, as per Spock’s request.

‘We’re all set over here, sir,’ he said in lieu of a greeting, expression as stoic as Spock’s own.

Spock nodded, directing the group over to the transporter pad, just as Leonard came bolting in, red-faced and clutching at a restocked Medikit.

‘I’m here,’ he said breathlessly, following Spock to the transporter. ‘God, I hate these things.’

Despite knowing that his complaining was likely intended to settle his nerves, Spock ignored him, instead looking to Mister Scott, who was stood ready at the controls. Scott was one of few whom he’d had opportunity to tell about locating Jim, and although Spock had not informed him of the psychological trauma Jim was experiencing, he could still see apprehension in Scott’s face.

‘We are ready, Mister Scott.’

‘Bring him back safe, sir,’ came the steady reply, and Spock nodded stiffly in response as he experienced the odd sensation of coming apart and reforming.

Seeing the Pirilian parliament and its wrecked courtyard once more sent an icy shiver up Spock’s spine, his heart thumping wildly for a few moments before he managed to regain his equilibrium. As the second half of the away team beamed down behind him, Spock approached Eana, who was emerging from the building with double the number of Security officers that Spock had brought.

‘Better safe than sorry,’ she announced, hurrying down the stairs into the courtyard.

Spock could not help but wish that she had had that attitude earlier. Nonetheless, he did not voice his concerns, only reopening the map of Pirilia to show her what he had learned.

‘The Captain is unaware of his location, but from his surroundings and the distance I have calculated him to have travelled, I believe him to be between twelve point nine and fourteen point six kilometres from here. I have highlighted the area here.’

He tapped his finger against the map, and a thin circular strip shone blue, the rest of the map dulling to grey.

‘Narrowing further, he seems to be held captive in a place with rocky terrain, as his… prison-’ Spock swallowed, choking down the fury that threatened to overcome him. ‘His prison is made of stone. These two locations seem to be the most likely, but you know the terrain better than I.’

He tapped the map again, and all but two small circles went grey, highlighting where Spock hoped Jim might be held. Eana took it from him, zooming in on one particular spot.

‘Here. I can’t be certain, but this is where the old palace used to be, before it was destroyed in the bombings. I can imagine that it makes a symbolic place to reside for Faeral.’

Her immediate answer allowed Spock to hope, however unwillingly. He yearned to hold Jim in his arms, to ensure his safety, and bring his captors to justice.

‘We must go. The Captain is in pain,’ he said hurriedly, gratified when she turned with haste to rally her Security team.

As she passed round individual transporter devices, the coordinates for the palace ruins already locked in, she approached Spock once more.

‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, Commander, but how do you know your Captain is in pain?’

Spock shook his head as he attached his transporter device, itching to leave.

‘With all due respect, Prime Minister, that can wait.’

She acquiesced with a hesitant nod, before drawing back to address the entire group.

‘I must warn you all; we do not know exactly what we will be beaming into here. I am aware that the terrorist faction has been decreasing in numbers recently, but I do not know how many trained combatants will be there to greet us. Please be cautious, and use your weaponry if needed. On your count, Commander.’

Spock withdrew his phaser from his belt, adrenaline beginning to quicken his heart.

‘Prepare yourselves,’ he warned his officers, letting his hand hover over his transporter device. ‘In three… two… one.’

He slammed his hand down on the button, and when he rematerialised, he found himself within a warzone. Eana’s team were already engaged in a shooting battle with a group of individuals outside a small encampment, and Spock was soon dodging projectiles himself, picking off three attackers in quick succession with a phaser beam set on stun. There was chaos, and yet Jim was here; he could feel it. The unfulfilled bond keened in his head, distracting him to the point where Leonard was forced to push him out of the way of a throwing knife, cursing all the way.

‘Be careful, hobgoblin!’

‘I apologise,’ he called, noting with a flash of relief that Faeral’s followers did not seem to be as numerous as he had expected.

With the help of his officers, and Eana’s Security team, the flood of aggression was becoming more manageable, which allowed Spock to divert some of his attention from the battle. Jim’s side of the bond was calling him home, and he used it almost like sonar, allowing the push and pull of sound and feeling to guide him in the right direction. When he spotted an opening in the rock face before them, the wooden door an oddity in the temporary structures set within the palace ruins, he felt a strong, instinctual pulse from within.

_T’hy’la._

Spock’s breath caught, and the stillness of his lungs held in stark contrast the thundering of his heart as his concentration narrowed upon the distant door.

‘McCoy; Giotto; Lewinsky, with me!’ he ordered, barely waiting for Leonard to react before sprinting towards the unguarded door. He could hear the others behind him, but he did not wait for them to catch up, dodging and retaliating to phaser attacks as he ran. Little else mattered but Jim now, to ensure his wellbeing and keep him safe from further harm was paramount.

‘Spock, slow down!’ came Leonard’s irritated shout, but Spock would not, _could_ not.

He pounded up the ramp hewn into the rock, and without hesitation, ran full tilt into the door. His effort bowed the thick wood, but resulted in little else. Undeterred, Spock tried again and again, hearing the wood splinter, until at last, the door crashed open beneath his weight. The others were just now climbing the ramp, but Spock was focused solely on the darkness within the room, waiting impatiently for his eyes to adjust, so he could find- _there._

He took one look at what Jim had become, and his composure was stripped away entirely. Curled up against the wall, his beloved sat chained and shaking, one manacled arm clearly badly broken. Rage and pain battled in Spock’s head, but he pushed his selfish emotions aside for Jim’s sake as Jim flinched at his approach, cringing like an abused animal. Gently, so as not to scare him, Spock skimmed a hand over matted hair, then cradled Jim’s cheek in his palm, feeling a bittersweet mix of relief that he lived and fury at his condition. At his touch, Jim looked up with frightened eyes, which widened as he focused on Spock. A quiet sob escaped him, making Spock’s heart ache in his side.

‘Are you…,’ Jim whispered, such naked hope in his expression, ‘is this..?’

Spock gently stroked a jutting cheekbone with his thumb, sinking slowly to his knees.

‘I am here now, t’hy’la,’ he murmured, drawing two fingers down the line of his jaw. ‘You are safe.’

‘My God,’ Spock heard Leonard say, but he did not take his eyes from Jim, who stared back up at him, his own eyes wet.

The odd angle of his arm and the festering wound alongside it made Spock’s blood boil, and despite his desire to hold Jim tight and never let him go, he allowed himself to be shunted an inch off to the side as Leonard descended upon them.

‘Spock, move over,’ he growled, hissing in frustration as he only succeeded in winning a centimetre or two. His voice softened dramatically when he turned to Jim. ‘Hey, Jimmy. You’re safe now, darlin’. We gotcha.’

It was as if Jim were drugged. His gaze moved unsteadily between the two of them as Leonard swept his hair back to study the bloody wound that Spock hadn’t seen, a tricorder scanning him from top to toe.

‘That wound’s definitely infected. He has a compound fracture in his arm, broken ribs, and too many lacerations and contusions to count. We need those manacles off.’

Jim made a small noise of protest as Spock backed away enough to allow Lewinsky room to aim his phaser at Jim’s bonds, but Spock was quick to reassure him.

‘I am still here, k’diwa,’ he said softly, taking the broken arm into the gentlest hold he could as Lewinsky fired at the manacles. It evidently wasn’t enough, judging by the quiet moan of pain that escaped Jim, and Spock forced the tremble from his hands in an effort to improve things for him. The skin beneath was red raw, as if Jim had been trying to slip through the cuffs. Spock could not hold back the wave of pain that washed over him, the broken bond flaring bright, and Jim’s attention fixed solely upon him as Spock reached up to brush his fingers over his meld points.

‘S-Spock?’

‘I wish to ascertain what damage has been done to you,’ Spock murmured, the yawning chasm in his mind aching fiercely in Jim’s presence. ‘I will be gentle. Do you consent?’

‘Fix it,’ Jim pleaded. He reached up, a finger skimming tremulously along the curve and point of Spock’s ear. ‘Please.’

‘Fix what, Jimmy?’ Leonard asked, but Spock shook his head.

‘Nothing… nothing you can help with.’ He closed his eyes for a moment against the paralysing ache. ‘He means the bond.’

Engaging in the lightest of surface melds, Spock flinched at the agony that came bursting out towards him, then again at the whimper it drew from Jim’s throat.

‘Spock, he isn’t in his right mind here.’

‘Neither of us can live like this,’ Spock said raggedly, his free hand stroking over Jim’s shoulder. ‘If he wishes for it to be dissolved in the future, I will… I will submit to his wishes.’

_‘Please,’_ Jim begged, eyes wet and wild.

Spock exchanged a look with Leonard. He did not know what his own expression had become, but he could see only grudging acceptance in Leonard’s face.

‘Whatever you have to do to take the pain away,’ he muttered, and Spock turned back to Jim.

His fingers settled against the meld points once more, his free hand coming up to cradle Jim’s cheek.

‘Yes?’

_‘Yes,’_ Jim breathed, and with a whisper of the traditional words, Spock brought their minds together.

It felt like coming home. The relief of sinking into his bondmate was indescribable, their compatibility such that Spock did not need to direct his half of the bond in their joining. The golden thread shot past him, and as Jim appeared on the horizon, so too did his half of the bond, until with a burst of light brighter than any that had come before, the bond flared back into being. Euphoria suffused Spock, either his or Jim’s or both, and as one, the twin chasms that had opened up in the wake of the bond tearing disappeared without a trace. Without the void, the brightness of Jim’s mind was as beautiful – _more_ beautiful – as he had expected, all blue skies and streaming sunlight. Yet the sky, the sun, and the meadow beneath his feet were all contained in a dome, beyond which raged a violent storm. Though he had suspicions as to its cause, Spock did not like the sight of it, nor the hairline crack he could see in the glass, splintered out like a spiderweb. Still, now was not the time to linger. Despite the ecstasy of their joining, Jim needed to heal, and Spock would not allow his own selfishness to prevent that. Bathing Jim’s mind in warm affection, and feeling a weak pulse of warmth in return, he reluctantly withdrew.

There was contentment like he had never known in their parting. Jim’s eyes were hazy, a soft, exhausted smile spreading over his face, and it was quite possibly the most beautiful sight Spock had ever seen.

‘I’d ask if it worked, but the both of you look drunk, so I guess that’s a yes.’

Half-turning to Leonard to make a disparaging reply, Spock’s throat closed up in panic as Jim’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body slumping back against the wall.

‘Shit,’ McCoy spat, as Spock dove forward to keep him upright. ‘We need a stretcher down here.’

‘No,’ Spock snapped, shaking his head firmly. He leant to gather Jim up, holding him against his chest. ‘I will carry him.’

Jim was limp in his arms, like a marionette with cut strings, and Spock did not like the dead weight of him. As he fumbled awkwardly with his communicator, Eana appeared in the doorway, her gills flaring wildly.

‘Is he well? Faeral has slipped away.’

Swallowing his righteous fury for Jim’s sake, Spock gave a terse reply – ‘He is alive. We will speak later.’

Amidst their short conversation, Lewinsky had gathered enough initiative to hail the Enterprise, and as Eana nodded, Spock felt the familiar undoing of the transporter beam. He gathered Jim close, shielding him from the light of the transporter and staring crewmen alike as they arrived back where they belonged.

‘Captain!’ Mister Scott exclaimed, his smile blinding as he saw Jim cradled against Spock. ‘Is he all right?’

‘He’ll live,’ Leonard replied, ushering Spock and his precious cargo towards the turbolift.

‘Mister Scott, if you could make a shipwide announcement regarding the Captain’s return, I would be grateful. Giotto, Lewinsky, to Medbay for an examination.’

‘Aye, sir.’

‘But-’

The lift doors shut before Lewinsky could protest, leaving Spock and Leonard alone with their unconscious Captain. As Leonard fussed over Jim, Spock subtly brushed his lips against Jim’s forehead, thankful that the bond allowed him at least some method of monitoring his condition. Though Jim was hurt – and Spock hated his captors for it – Leonard’s lack of histrionics indicated confidence in his recovery, and so Spock allowed the knot in his stomach to unfurl, just a little.

‘I’m actually glad he passed out.’

The turbolift opened onto the corridor where Medbay lay, and Spock stared at McCoy – perplexed, and slightly irked. Catching his eye, Leonard continued –

‘He might have nothing life-threatening, but I’m sure he was in a hell of a lot of pain back there.’

‘Yes,’ Spock said softly, stroking his thumb over the crook of Jim’s elbow, ‘he was.’

Leonard eyed him strangely, but did not comment, instead leading them through the hub of Medbay towards a private room which Jim had used so often, Leonard had threatened to carve his name above the doorway. As Spock gently laid Jim on the bed, slipping his boots off once he had, Nurse Chapel entered without prompting. Her face was stoic, but her eyes betrayed her turmoil as they swept over Jim, her hand reaching up to adjust one of the monitors by his bed.

‘Want me to get you the cefotaxime? That arm looks pretty nasty.’

‘Please,’ Leonard requested, beginning to pull the layers of clothing off Jim.

Though he knew that it was purely for medical reasons, Spock felt himself twitch, a spike of possessiveness making itself known. Leonard looked up with his eyebrows raised, expression contorted in disbelief.

‘Spock, you jealous bastard, I’m not doing this for fun.’

‘I am aware,’ Spock mumbled, aiding him by pulling Jim’s trousers off. ‘I apologise, Doctor. The bond is resettling.’

‘Resettling, my ass,’ Leonard muttered, setting up an IV.

Spock watched anxiously as the two of them bandaged, regenerated, and mopped up blood, and all the while, Jim remained unconscious, his beautiful face softened in faux-sleep. Despite knowing he could not feel it, when Leonard began tugging on Jim’s arm, Spock itched to throw him off.

‘Make yourself useful, and help us straighten it out, will you?’

As Spock complied, Nurse Chapel tutted at McCoy, the negativity of before all but vanished.

‘Put some force behind you, Spock,’ she directed, splinting it straight. ‘You won’t hurt him, even if he wakes up – I slipped him a strong painkiller before.’

In spite of his faith in her, Spock still winced at the scrape of bone on bone as he eased the arm back into place, holding it still so that Leonard could run the regenerator over it.

‘I still want to keep an eye on it for a few days,’ Leonard said grimly, bandaging the wound. ‘It was a bad break. But for now…’

He reached above the bed and flicked the sonics on.

‘Chrissie, will you excuse us for a minute?’

She nodded and left silently, and Leonard gestured at Jim’s underwear.

‘Boxers off, please. He doesn’t exactly smell like roses right now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’

Spock had noticed. He did not care. Still, he wanted Jim to be comfortable, and since that likely involved being clean, he did as he was asked, averting his eyes from Jim’s penis in deference to his vulnerability. Once Jim was clean, Leonard allowed Spock to dress him in a hospital gown and lay him back down. As Leonard fussed around them, Spock tenderly drew up the sheets to Jim’s chin, smoothing them down around his sore body. He loathed the fact that Jim had been so grievously injured, both physically and mentally, and that the main culprit was yet to be found. Still, his t’hy’la was resilient, and no matter the challenges he would face upon his awakening, Spock made a silent vow to support him throughout.

‘So,’ Leonard began, once he had triple-checked Jim’s vitals, and scanned his full body with the tricorder once more. ‘You… fixed the bond? Does that mean you’re married now?’

Spock shook his head, stroking a lock of Jim’s hair back from his face.

‘I have only reinstated what was already ours – the t’hy’la bond forms naturally. A marriage bond is separate, but it is possible that Jim will not wish for that.’

‘But you do.’

‘More than anything,’ Spock confessed quietly. He looked up at Leonard, who, for once, was quiet. ‘Does this displease you?’

‘No, _God,_ no,’ Leonard blurted, fiddling with the IV. ‘I just want him happy, you know that. I’ll admit I was a little surprised when you reciprocated, but you make him light up in a way like I’ve never seen. I’m sure he’ll want to marry you.’

Spock sat wearily in the chair beside Jim’s bed, eyeing his unconscious mate with concern.

‘That remains to be seen. There was a questionable decision on Nyota’s part which first needs to be addressed.’

‘What do you mean?’ Leonard asked, his question making Spock squirm internally.

‘Nyota wishes for a relationship with another crewmember-’

‘Scotty. They’re together already.’

‘Yes,’ Spock continued, irritated by the interruption. ‘Before we left for Pirilia originally, they were not. The pre-mission briefing had just ended, and there was a communicator abandoned on the table. Upon hearing footsteps in the corridor, Nyota assumed that Mister Scott was returning to collect it, and in a misguided move, attempted to kiss me in order to make Mister Scott realise his attraction to her. Unfortunately, Jim appeared in place of Scott.’

_‘Jesus,’_ Leonard breathed, snapping off his gloves. ‘That was a dumb move for Nyota. And he’ll have taken one look at you two and thought you were back together. That was what he was scared of.’

Spock nodded miserably, stroking over Jim’s arm.

‘He was visibly in distress, and I had no opportunity to explain what had happened before his abduction. And there is not only that. You are aware that the Euridians are psychically gifted?’

Leonard’s eyes narrowed, a frown creasing his brow into familiar lines as he looked at Jim’s prostrate form.

‘Yeah, I was in that briefing.’

‘It was Faeral who destroyed the bond,’ Spock said bluntly, reigning in his anger with difficulty. ‘Not only that, but he has been torturing Jim mentally for the past week, using his worst memories to taunt him.’

‘Bastard,’ Leonard hissed, face pale.

‘Indeed.’ Spock so rarely had violent urges, but in this case, they could hardly be contained. ‘Jim will likely suffer, though I will do my utmost to mitigate it.’

Leonard swore, throwing his gloves into the waste disposal.

‘As if the trauma of being kidnapped wasn’t enough. Jim’s been through so much, Spock. It isn’t fair for him to have to relive it all.’

‘I know,’ Spock murmured, desperate for his t’hy’la not to be in pain. ‘I will be there as much as I can to help him.’

‘That’s all I can ask. Scotty still in command?’

‘For today. Tomorrow I will take over, until Jim is well again.’

‘He’ll fight for his Captaincy,’ Leonard stated, as if Spock didn’t already know. ‘We’ll have to keep a close eye on him.’

‘Of that you can be assured, Doctor.’

Leonard snorted, gesturing at Jim.

‘He should be awake within the hour. You staying here with him?’

‘Naturally,’ Spock sniffed. ‘I will alert you when he wakes.’

‘Great. I’ll be in the main hub if you need me.’ He pressed the door release, but before he left, he fixed Spock with a piercing stare – far more serious than his usual scowl. ‘Look after him, Spock.’

Spock inclined his head, his hand resting on Jim’s wrist above the bedclothes.

‘Always.’

Apparently satisfied, Leonard left, and for the first time since Jim had been found, Spock was alone with him. Jim was pale, and he had lost a significant amount of weight since he had last been on the ship, his face more angular than before. With a shaking hand, Spock reached out to him, tracing the lines of his face with paired fingers. He loved this man more than anything in the universe. This man, whom he had disliked with burning intensity at first, who had cheated his way through a test of humility, who had risen through the ranks with no experience and an instinctual nature. This man, who loved his crew like children. Who had shattered all Spock’s controls upon his death, leaving him to fall apart. This man, who had sat up with him all night when he was unwell, had saved his life numerous times, and who – Spock hoped – loved him too.

Leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, Spock drew a padd from the cabinet beside the bed, and dialled a familiar line. When the comm connected, he was surprised to see not only his father, but Selek too, sat beside one another in Sarek’s office.

‘Sa-fu,’ Sarek greeted, leaning forwards. ‘Has the Captain been found?’

Selek, too, seemed eager, and so Spock did not draw it out, angling the padd down towards Jim so that he was visible on the camera. There was an audible, if quiet, sigh of relief from Selek, and when Spock tilted the padd back up, the corners of Sarek’s lips were quirked the tiniest amount.

‘Is he well?’ Selek asked, and Spock hesitated before he spoke, looking down at the pallor of Jim’s face.

‘Physically, he will heal quickly. Mentally, perhaps not so. I have faith in his resilience, but Faeral saw fit to torture him with memories that must have been almost impossible to recover from in the first place. I do not think that recovering from reliving them will be easy.’

Selek stiffened, and Spock caught his eye, wondering whether there were more commonalities between their Captains than first thought. Sarek, however, seemed oblivious to their silent exchange, and asked what Spock could not answer.

‘What memories, Spock?’

Shaking his head, Spock gently rubbed at Jim’s covered wrist with his thumb.

‘There are horrors in Jim’s past that I am unsure he would have confided even in myself about. I mean no insult when I say that I cannot tell you, Sa-mekh.’

‘I understand,’ Sarek said quietly, his expression even more sombre than usual. ‘May I see him again?’

Spock tilted the padd once more, leaning down so that both of them were visible in the picture.

‘Your advice was helpful, Selek,’ he praised, moving that stubborn lock of hair once more. ‘I located Jim when I managed to take a part of him into myself, and I saw where he was being held. When I arrived, he was injured, but conscious. I reinstated the t’hy’la bond on his request, and for the mental health of us both.’

‘How did he react?’ Selek asked, as he tilted the padd back up.

‘Unfortunately, he fell unconscious. However, I believe that was at least partially due to Faeral’s psychic attacks. I am somewhat amazed that he remains sane.’

‘Where is Faeral now?’

‘Gone,’ Spock said tightly, meeting his father’s gaze with turmoil that he knew would show. ‘He vanished upon our arrival, when my priority was finding Jim.’

Sarek was silent for a moment, his eyes flashing.

‘Is there anything I can do for you both?’

‘I am grateful for the offer, but no,’ Spock replied, letting his breath huff out ever so slightly. ‘I am hopeful that Starfleet will consider it a priority for us to find him. He is, after all, considerably dangerous.’

‘Finding him would also endear you to the current rulers,’ Sarek added. ‘Do not forget that.’

‘I will not.’ Spock could not help but look to Jim once more, hopeful that he would stir soon. ‘I have more people to call, but I wished to let you both know first.’

‘We are grateful,’ Selek said warmly, and Sarek inclined his head in agreement. Both seemed relieved, even without saying so. ‘Let us know if his condition changes. We both appreciate hearing from you.’

‘Particularly if he is receptive to a bond,’ Sarek interjected, raising an eyebrow in response to Spock’s raised eyebrow. ‘I am hopeful that he will be one day, if not immediately.’

‘I hope so too. Live long and prosper.’

‘Peace and long life,’ was spoken simultaneously, and the call ended with Spock feeling considerably calmer than before. Jim still showed no sign of waking, so Spock tapped at the padd once more, a call connecting to Deneva. The comm was picked up almost immediately, a frantic-looking Sam Kirk appearing at the other end, babe in arms.

‘Have you got him?’

Spock nodded, and Sam let out what sounded almost like a sob, rocking the child when he mimicked his father.

‘Thank God,’ he rasped, clutching Peter against him. ‘Is he okay?’

‘Physically, he is mostly well. Mentally, I do not yet know. He is sedated for the time being.’

Before Sam could ask, he tilted the padd as he had done for his father and Selek, showing Jim to him. When he turned it back, Sam was smiling, if a little tearfully.

‘When he’s well enough, will you ask him to call me? I want him to meet Peter.’

He kissed the baby’s head, and Peter reached up with a tiny, chubby fist, grasping at his shirt. Spock’s breath caught, his stomach clenching – only for a moment – with want. Catching his eye, Sam smiled, turning Peter round to show him.

‘Mind you, the way he goes on about you, I should think you’d be involved in Peter’s life as well.’

Captivated, Spock watched as the baby yawned, little fingers stretching out as he settled his weight back into his father.

‘I… would not be opposed to that.’

Sam grinned, rubbing circles on Peter’s back when he mewled.

‘Oh, no, no, no, baby, don’t cry! Spock, thank you for letting me know that Jim’s okay. He’s been all I could think about this past week, and I’m really grateful that you’ve managed to get him back. I’ll have to go, Spock, but please let him know I’m here when he wants me.’

‘I will,’ Spock promised, eyes flicking once more to the tiny child.

‘Say bye-bye to Uncle Spock, Petey,’ Sam cooed, waving the tiny hand in his direction.

Spock lifted his hand to split into the ta’al, and Peter mewled again, his other fist making its way into his mouth.

‘Aw, looks like he’s hungry. See you later, Spock. Thanks again.’

‘You are welcome. Goodbye, Sam. Peter.’

Sam smiled widely, and the comm ended, leaving Spock staring at a blank screen. Pushing the padd carelessly onto the cabinet, he turned back to Jim, watching his fingers move beneath the sheet with bated breath. He should be waking soon, if Leonard was right; even if Spock rarely admitted it, he often was.

‘Jim,’ he said softly, gripping his hand through the sheet. ‘Can you hear me?’

There was another movement, this time in his whole hand, and a muted groan left Jim’s lips. Spock leant down, gently stroking his face in an attempt to coax his eyes open.

‘James, wake up. You are safe now. I will keep you safe.’

Jim’s eyes fluttered, and with Spock’s gentle persistence, he awoke with a groan, blinking in the harsh lights of Medbay. Spock held his breath, braced for tears, fury, even hysteria. What he did not expect was the utter blankness of Jim’s face when their eyes met, his expression as stoic as any Vulcan’s.

‘Give it up, Faeral. You’ve played this one too many times.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone :) Our boys are back together at last!! Though Jim may yet have some healing to do, as you'll see over the next few chapters! 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and I just wanted to make a request on behalf of other writers as well as myself - if you do enjoy a chapter or a work, please do leave a comment, even if it's just a few words. I can't tell you how much of a confidence boost it is; I spend sometimes a few hours a night writing and editing, and it can be a real struggle to keep the motivation going when response rates are low. It can be a bit taboo to talk about, I know, but while most of us write for ourselves, we do post for a reason.
> 
> So please comment, and if you’re on tumblr, it would be great if you could reblog my fic posts! They're all tagged [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-of-his-soul) on my blog :) As always, I’m tremendously appreciative of those of you who take the time to comment and reblog <3 You guys keep me not only posting, but writing some days too! The next chapter should be up in 2-3 weeks, but I'll have to see closer to the time. Until then, I hope you all enjoy your weekend, and that work/school goes as well as it can over the coming weeks :)


	13. My Sun, My Moon, And All My Stars

When Jim’s eyes opened onto Medbay, Spock hovering worriedly at his bedside, his very first reaction was pain. Hadn’t Faeral had enough yet? Hadn’t the torture quota been filled for today? Apparently not, judging by the authenticity of Spock’s expression, so full of affection and concern that it could only have been a fabrication, drawn from the recesses of Jim’s mind. After a few seconds of allowing the misery to consume him, Jim gathered himself with a shaky breath, forcing away the vulnerability he wished so desperately to show.

‘Give it up, Faeral,’ he muttered, clenching his jaw. ‘You’ve played this one too many times.’

_‘Jim,’_ not-Spock said, and it sounded so desperate that Jim could hardly bear it. ‘Jim, you are not in that prison any longer. You are on the Enterprise, and I am real.’

‘No, you’re not.’

He refused to inject any emotion into the words, refused to look into those warm eyes, which he knew would be swimming with all the feeling that Spock would not show in his expression. He flinched as the bed dipped, not-Spock coming to sit beside him. Resolutely, he stared at the ceiling, cringing away from the hand that came to rest upon his cheek.

‘Jim,’ Spock murmured, voice decidedly rough. ‘Please. You must remember; Doctor McCoy and I came to find you, and took you from your cell. I reinstated the bond, which I am sure you must have noticed.’

Strangely, despite the lingering, muted ache of his injuries, the agony of the void _had_ disappeared from Jim’s mind. Still, that meant nothing. Faeral knew how to trick him by now.

‘This is reality, Jim. I am here.’

His thumb swept across Jim’s cheekbone in a move so tender that he _ached,_ fury rising irrepressibly within him.

‘Stop it!’ he spat, shaking with anger, and exhaustion, and the need to give in. ‘You’re not him!’

In place of more empty words, Jim’s resolve faltered when he felt an unexpected gush of warmth in his mind. It was as if someone had reached in and covered him entirely with a blanket as soft as the one Spock had given him, protecting him from his own turmoil. Startled from his tirade, Jim fell silent, staring uncertainly up at the man whose gaze was so tender upon him. He wanted to believe so badly. As if sensing his need for reassurance, the warm feeling intensified, and Spock’s hand slid down from his face to his arm, coming to rest upon his own.

‘T’hy’la. How I have missed you.’

Jim trembled, and in a slow, tentative movement, he turned his hand so that their palms met. They felt like Spock’s hands, cool and soft, and long fingers stroked gently over the sensitive skin of his wrist. Perhaps then, Jim might have blurted out everything. Perhaps, if Bones hadn’t come barrelling through the door.

‘I told you to tell me when he woke up!’

Despite the unexpected interruption making him flinch, Bones’ familiar brusque nature was a comfort in itself.

‘It has not been long,’ Spock said defensively, and although Jim expected him to withdraw his hand, he did not. ‘I have been trying to convince Jim that he is truly back on the Enterprise, and not at the hands of Faeral.’

The name alone made Jim twitch, and it was spoken with audible disdain by Spock, his previously lax hand curling to enclose Jim’s. Bones frowned – not unusual by anyone’s standards – but for once, there wasn’t even mock-anger there.

‘Is that what he was doing to you, Jimmy?’ When Jim nodded, he swore. ‘If I ever see that bastard…’

At first, Jim was only grateful that he was being protective, but then he processed what Bones had said.

_‘If_ you ever see him? Surely he’s had a medical review by now? Or is Chris doing it?’

Bones and Spock exchanged a glance, which never boded well for Jim. He stared at each in turn, silently demanding clarification, and it was Spock who took on the responsibility.

‘Eana has a number of your captors in custody,’ he said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘However, Faeral is not among them. It appears that he escaped.’

‘Escaped?’ Jim echoed, voice faint. He felt woozy, but he didn’t realise quite how much until Spock took his head into his hands, and his vision cleared.

‘Jim?’

‘I’m all right, Spock,’ he muttered, unsure as to whether he was lying. ‘We’ll have to find him, though. He’s dangerous.’

‘We will,’ Bones assured him, approaching the bed to scan him for what Jim imagined wasn’t the first time. ‘Eana’s probably gettin’ on with that already. We’ll help afterwards, but I want you in here for at _least_ tonight and tomorrow, and you can stay off active duty for a week.’

Normally, Jim would have argued, but he felt like shit, and he was too exhausted to try.

‘A week including today,’ he conceded, folding his arms. ‘And I can do reports once I’m back in my quarters.’

‘Fine, but Spock monitors the number,’ Bones gritted out, and Jim smirked, pleased that he’d won some ground.

‘I think Spock’ll be pleased to see me do some paperwork.’

‘Not if it hinders your recovery,’ Spock interjected, drawing his empty hand back into his lap. ‘But in general, yes.’

Jim snorted, wincing as he shifted to get more comfortable.

‘Guess my back’s pretty torn up, huh?’

‘Pretty bad,’ Bones agreed, reaching into his pocket. ‘I can give you something for the pain if-’

‘No, thank you,’ Jim said quickly, wary of his hypo-happy disposition. ‘S’not that bad.’

Spock was watching him with eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul, the bond thrumming quietly.

‘Perhaps you could leave the hypospray, Doctor.’

Pulling the hypo from his pocket, Bones threw it to Spock, who caught it with ease.

‘Use it sparingly, no matter how much he whines.’

‘Hey!’

‘Now I’ve got other patients to see,’ Bones continued smoothly, ignoring him, ‘so if you need me, give me a call. Until then, he’s in your hands.’

He paused, turning his attention back to Jim as he gently squeezed his shoulder.

‘I’m real glad you’re back, kid. I wouldn’t survive this place without you.’

The words seemed to echo through Jim’s head as his focus narrowed entirely to the feel of fingers digging in to his flesh, and he cringed in anticipation of yet another mental assault. A few seconds later, his swimming vision cleared, and he blinked up at Bones, taking a moment to process what had been said.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he blurted, forcing a smile. ‘Go and find someone else to stab for a while.’

‘You okay, Jimmy? Seemed like you spaced out for a second there.’

‘I’m all right,’ Jim lied, doing his best not to look like reality had just escaped him. ‘Just tired.’

‘I will ensure that the Captain gets proper rest,’ Spock assured Bones, so certain of himself that it made Jim feel a little safer.

‘Good. Call me if you need me,’ Bones threw over his shoulder as he left, and the two of them were left alone once more.

Spock was staring at Jim with something dangerously close to devotion, his expression as open and vulnerable as Jim had ever seen. It made his heart clench with want. When Spock had appeared in his cell, he’d been so blinded by his happiness at seeing him that he’d forgotten what had happened before Euridian, so desperate for the agony of the broken bond to disappear. Now, with Spock’s eyes warm with affection, just as they had been the night Jim had almost kissed him, the pain and anger of before began to boil over.

‘You are not all right.’

‘And what would you know?’ Jim said coldly, drawing his hand away when Spock tried to touch him.

‘T’hy’la-’

‘Don’t call me that!’

Spock looked impossibly sad, wilting in a way that churned Jim’s stomach. His throat ached with the repression of tears, and he turned his face away when Spock sat beside him, far more tentatively than before.

‘I…’

The catch of Spock’s breath was audible, and despite his displeasure, Jim hated to be the one to make him vulnerable.

‘I should not presume, but I imagine that you are upset because of what you saw before we beamed down to Euridian.’

Jim briefly squeezed his brimming eyes shut, knowing that he’d need a moment to make sure his voice was steady.

‘I thought you felt the same way as I do.’

‘I do,’ Spock insisted, hand twitching in an abortive movement towards him. ‘My relationship with Nyota ended before you awakened in the hospital, and has never recommenced-’

Jim scoffed, interrupting him. Resentment welled at the obvious discrepancy, and he avoided Spock’s decidedly miserable gaze.

‘Why then,’ he asked, voice trembling anew, ‘did you kiss Uhura?’

Spock shook his head, increasingly desperate.

‘I did not. Jim, please.’ He held up a hand before Jim could argue, and against his better instincts, Jim fell silent. ‘Nyota harbours affections for Mister Scott, and at that time, while receptive, he did not appear to be responding to her advances. After the briefing, a communicator was left in the room-’

‘Yeah, Scotty’s,’ Jim interjected. ‘I came back to pick it up.’

‘Nyota thought that Mister Scott would return to collect it. In an error of judgement, she kissed me in an attempt to trigger a response in Mister Scott that would lead to a relationship.’

Jim gaped at him, heart racing.

‘You mean, she doesn’t… you don’t…’

‘Nyota is my closest friend beside you,’ Spock said quietly, inching forward on the bed. ‘I harbour great affection for her, but I have never fallen in love with her, nor her, I believe, with me.’

Jim was trembling again, but this time, it was nothing to do with fear or anger. Hope rose in him until he felt like he was floating, dizzy with the possibility of the longing of the past few years being requited at last.

‘Or relationship ended upon your awakening in the hospital. We separated in part because of our incompatibility, but also because I harboured affections for another. You, Jim.’

Jim couldn’t breathe. He felt somewhat unreal, fighting not to dissociate.

‘But you kept turning down my chess invitations. You didn’t want me.’

There was a flash of guilt that was not his own, quickly withdrawn. Jim blinked in amazement, leaning into the finger that traced over the curve of his ear. Spock’s attention was on him so fully, so intensely, that he felt his belly tighten, and when their eyes met, his breath caught at the open emotion there.

‘I thought that my feelings would not be requited,’ Spock admitted, and when Jim reached out to take hold of his hand, his breath audibly shuddered. ‘I pushed you away in the hope that I would not burden you with my unwanted desires.’

‘Unwanted?’ Jim said softly, incredulously. His heart was thundering in his chest, a wild fluttering in his belly. ‘Spock, there’s nothing I want more.’

Spock looked wrecked, a flush of green spreading over his cheeks, and a softness in those lovely dark eyes the like of which Jim had never seen. He reached up with his free hand to cradle Jim’s cheek, bringing their foreheads together. Jim closed his eyes in bliss, shivering as soft lips grazed over his temple, and closed gently over the tip of his nose.

‘James.’

Jim looked up with hazy eyes, inordinately pleased to see Spock looking similarly dazed.

‘Taluhk nash-veh k’dular, t’hy’la,’ Spock whispered, moulding Jim’s pliant hand until their paired fingers pressed together. ‘I love you.’

The shock dissipated in favour of blinding happiness as Spock leant down to kiss him, soft, and loving, and achingly slow, and Jim mewled into his mouth, shifting closer despite his lingering aches. One of Spock’s hands carded through his hair as his tongue coaxed Jim’s lips open, licking into his mouth with a quiet moan that thrilled Jim as he sucked gently on it. Their fingers stroked against and along one another, and Jim felt sparks at the contact, letting Spock guide their hands as he guided their mouths, gentling their kiss until their lips barely touched. One or both of them kept leaning in, not wanting it to end, but eventually, they were as they were before, breathing as one with their foreheads touching.

‘I love you too,’ Jim said raggedly. A soft laugh escaped him, the sound perilously close to a sob. ‘I love you. I love you so much.’

Spock kissed him once more, gently, then drew back enough to see his face. Their fingers were still pressed together, still now, and Spock gestured to their connection with his other hand.

‘Do you know the significance of this?’

Jim shook his head, embarrassed, but Spock only kissed him again, soft and reassuring.

‘It is the ozh’esta, t’hy’la,’ he explained, when he pulled away. Emotion danced across those lovely eyes more freely than ever, and Jim recognised the love there with a flush of joy. ‘It is a Vulcan kiss, performed with our fingers because the sensitivity there is similar to that of human lips. The ozh’esta is used exclusively between bondmates… or t’hy’lara.’

‘I’m assuming that the last word is related to t’hy’la,’ Jim said quietly, brow furrowing. ‘Faeral said… he said that t’hy’la means soulmate, and…’

He swallowed, avoiding Spock’s warm gaze.

‘He said that you knew I was your t’hy’la, and went with Uhura anyway.’

_‘No.’_ The word was choked, rough with emotion. Spock took Jim’s hand between his own, stroking the back of his palm with his thumb. ‘Jim, ashayam, look at me.’

Reluctantly, Jim obeyed, struck by the sincerity in his eyes. He watched as Spock raised his hand to his lips, shivering as he kissed his knuckles.

‘The t’hy’la bond is something of which I should have been aware when we first met, but although I was certainly drawn to you, I was not. Vulcan children are betrothed aged seven, but when the child I was being paired with saw my mind, she was revolted.’

‘What?’ Jim asked, furious on his behalf. ‘If that was your mind I felt in the cell, it was the _furthest_ thing from revolting, I-’

He gathered himself, fuming, when Spock shushed him gently, caressing his hand.

‘I could feel her disgust in the meld. To protect myself in the aftermath, I shielded my mind from the space in which the rejection lay, and in which our bond subsequently formed. I was aware of my attraction to you when we first met, and of my growing affection for you as we became closer, but I only knew of the bond when it snapped.’

The very mention of that dreadful morning made Jim nauseous, and from the look on Spock’s face, the feeling was mutual. His expression was full of the loss they had both felt, and Jim could not help but want him closer.

‘C’mere,’ he said softly, shifting sideways on the bed with a wince. ‘Lie with me.’

Spock blinked, half-rising from his seated position.

‘I do not wish to hurt you.’

‘You won’t,’ Jim soothed, beckoning him up. ‘You couldn’t. Come here, sweetheart.’

Being able to call him that openly made warmth spread in Jim’s stomach, more so when he caught the light dusting of green across Spock’s cheeks and at the tips of his ears. Spock carefully moved to lie beside him, the size of the biobed leaving barely an inch or two between them, but that was just how Jim liked it. Reaching up, he took the tip of one of those pretty ears between thumb and forefinger, rubbing gently until Spock made a soft sound in his throat, eyes dark. Jim withdrew his hand with a smile, loving how freely he could touch the man he loved at last. Then he remembered what they had been talking about, and his mood plummeted again. Smoothing out the fabric of Spock’s Science blues over his waist, Jim recalled the breaking of the bond with unease.

‘I’ve never felt anything like that… the bond breaking, I mean. I didn’t know what he was doing to me. All I knew was that he was in my head, and something really, really important was gone, and I was alone.’

He swallowed, clutching at Spock’s shirt for dear life. He was crumpling the very same material he had just smoothed out, but he didn’t care.

‘There was just this… this _emptiness_ in me, and it hurt so much.’

‘I thought that you had died.’

Jim looked up in shock to see Spock’s neutral expression crumble, and _god,_ were those tears?

‘I felt the bond break as you did,’ Spock murmured, eyes definitely brimming. ‘I felt the horror of your memories, and the agony of the loss, and I fell unconscious. When I woke three days later, there was a void that signified to me only one thing – your death.’

A few tears spilled over, and Jim drew him close, his heart squeezing. Yes, his own experience had been awful, but if he had thought that Spock was dead, he wasn’t sure that he would have been able to carry on. That Spock had coped enough to find him was incredible, but he obviously wasn’t unaffected. Seeing him like this made Jim think of the last time he’d seen him cry, and the memory of being unable to console him through the glass of the warp core made him nauseous.

‘Shhh, love,’ he cooed, holding him tighter. ‘I’m still here. And you _saved_ me.’

He stroked the back of Spock’s head, combing his fingers through soft, fine hair as Spock shivered against him, looking up with an unreadable expression.

‘I would not have, if it were not for Ambassador… my counterpart.’

Jim cocked his head in question, tenderly wiping away the remnants of tears with the pad of his thumb.

‘When I thought that you had been lost, I could not function,’ Spock admitted quietly, his expression faltering. ‘Doctors McCoy and M’Benga witnessed a shameful lack of emotional control. I had no will to continue without you.’

The defeat in his voice broke Jim’s heart. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to Spock’s forehead, then kissed him softly on the mouth. It took a moment for Spock to respond, but when he did, he matched Jim’s unhurried pace, parting from him with a quiet sigh.

‘I never want you to have to feel like that again,’ Jim said roughly, attempting to keep his emotions under control. He cupped Spock’s cheek in his palm, pleased when he leaned into his touch. ‘How did Selek come into it?’

‘Selek contacted the Enterprise after feeling our bond break.’

_‘Selek_ felt the bond break?’ Jim repeated, realisation dawning.

Spock inclined his head.

‘It appears that he has his own connection with you, perhaps conjured by the meld you once shared, but originating from the link with his own Jim.’

‘A universal constant,’ Jim said softly, smiling at the thought.

‘Indeed,’ Spock agreed, and Jim was captivated by his tiny answering smile. ‘Selek convinced me that because his tenuous link with you remained intact, you were still alive. He gave me advice on how to find you using the remnants of our bond. It was extremely difficult, but eventually, I succeeded.’

He cast knowing eyes over Jim, shifting up the bed so that they were lying face to face.

‘I will be truthful with you. When the bond broke, I caught glimpses of your memories, much as you did. As quickly as they passed, I saw little of substance, but I could feel your pain.’

Jim’s stomach sank. As much as he loved and trusted Spock, he didn’t want to inflict those memories on anybody else. They made him feel dirty, made him feel used, and although rationally, he knew that Spock would probably still want him, he didn’t want him to feel obligated to take him on.              

‘When I attempted to use what remained of the bond to find you,’ Spock continued, stroking an open palm over his bicep, ‘I witnessed the memories with which Faeral was torturing you; those of Tarsus, and-’

‘No.’

Cold dread unfurled in Jim, suffusing his body until he was shaking with it, avoiding Spock’s gaze. It was bad enough that he’d had to relieve it, that he could still feel rough hands upon him, and burning, stinging pain in places he shouldn’t, but for Spock to have experienced that was unthinkable. The horror of it all made his stomach roll, and though his back screamed in protest of his movements, he rolled over with the intention of dragging himself out of bed to get to the fresher. An arm like a band of steel encircled his waist, confining him, and when a whimper of protest escaped Jim, a chemical bucket was shoved in front of his face. Spock held him as he dry-retched, bringing nothing up despite his nausea, and when he began to cry, he was brought carefully against Spock’s chest, a cool hand taking hold of his wrist. The nausea abated as Spock’s clever fingers massaged the pressure point there, but it took a little longer for the tears to stop, Spock cuddling him close throughout.

‘You do not have to deal with this alone, ashayam.’

‘Do you really want damaged goods?’ Jim asked, biting down on his trembling lip to stay it. ‘And what does ashayam mean?’

Spock’s arms tightened around his waist, and Jim felt a gentle brush of lips against his ear.

‘You are most certainly _not_ damaged goods,’ Spock murmured hotly, stroking across his hip and belly. ‘And ashayam means beloved.’

Jim shivered in pleasure, but remained silent, still not entirely convinced. The thumb of the hand splayed against his belly rubbed gently over his hospital gown, and Spock pressed a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw.

‘You have suffered unimaginable trauma multiple times, and yet you have risen to become a Captain of the Federation flagship. You are not damaged goods. You are extraordinary, my Jim. And I love you beyond measure.’

‘Love you too,’ Jim murmured, flushing. Hearing Spock saying that he loved him felt better than he had ever imagined, even more so when he was being held like this. ‘Can we lie back down? I feel better now.’

Gently, so as not to jar his back, Spock laid him on the bed, then lay facing him. He traced Jim’s eyebrow with a finger, drawing it down over the curve of his ear, then down his jawline to his chin. There was such intensity in his expression that Jim wouldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to.

‘I have restored our t’hy’la bond,’ he said lightly, resting a hand on the rise of Jim’s hip. ‘If that is all you ever wish for, I will not ask for anything more.’

‘What do you mean by more?’ Jim asked, fighting the urge to tense. Sure, the idea of sex right now made his stomach churn, but if Spock wanted it, there was no way he’d say no.

Spock visibly hesitated, and Jim braced himself.

‘I do not wish to put pressure on you. I will remain with you whatever you choose, please be assured of that. Perhaps one day, however, you might consider entering into a marriage bond with me.’

Shock punched the air out of Jim’s lungs. As Spock watched, the hint of anxiety in his expression growing, Jim smiled tearfully.

‘You would want that with me?’

Joy rushed through him as Spock nodded, the hand on his hip tightening protectively.

‘I want everything with you, taluhk.’

‘Everything?’ Jim shifted, his mouth dry and heart pounding. ‘Even… even a family?’

The memory of the children that Faeral had created for them was always at the back of his mind, and never so strongly had he craved that with Spock as now. That sweet, soft smile tugged at the corners of Spock’s lips again, and the hand on Jim’s hip rose to card through his hair.

‘There is nothing I would like more.’

‘Really?’ Jim breathed, an uncontrollable wave of elation rolling over him as Spock nodded. Ignoring the pain in his back and arm, he reached up to grasp the back of Spock’s neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. Spock responded enthusiastically, his hand drifting back up to Jim’s face as he bit gently at his lower lip, suckling at it until Jim moaned, drunk off the touch and feel and smell of him. Jim felt a twinge in his arm as he reached up to tangle his fingers in Spock’s soft hair, but it was worth it when a gentle tug elicited a sweet mewl against his mouth, Spock’s hand twitching against his cheek. Jim tugged Spock closer as Spock licked into his mouth, loving the weight of him against his body, but when he pulled a little too enthusiastically, pain flared up his back, and he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him. Instantly, Spock backed off, his dark eyes alight with concern.

‘I am sorry, t’hy’la,’ he rasped, hair askew in such a way that Jim couldn’t help but smile fondly. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. Your back…’

‘Shh, it was my fault,’ Jim soothed, stroking his cheek. ‘I pulled you closer.’

‘Still, I should have been more aware,’ Spock said stubbornly.

Jim shook his head, smiling indulgently.

‘It’s on me,’ he insisted, putting his finger to Spock’s lips before he could argue. ‘Got a little excited when you said you want to marry and have kids with me.’

Even as the words left his mouth, he was still in disbelief. It was like a dream, or a delusion, even if this one Faeral hadn’t conjured up. Spock’s eyes softened as he spoke, and the lips that had parted to continue arguing closed in order to press a chaste kiss to the pad of Jim’s finger.

‘It would be an honour. There is, however, something I need to discuss with you.’

Jim cocked an eyebrow, and Spock hesitated once more, uncertainty in his expression as he began to speak.

‘Are you aware of what pon farr is?’

‘The words sound familiar?’ Jim frowned. ‘Not sure why, though.’

‘Pon farr is never spoken about with non-Vulcans,’ Spock said quietly, his face colouring in a way that caught Jim’s interest. ‘If we are to marry, however, it is necessary. Every seven years, Vulcans fall into a state of madness, for which the cure is to mate repeatedly with their bonded until the blood fever is satiated.’

‘Okay,’ Jim said weakly, shocked that the most straight-laced, uptight race in the Federation would be the ones who essentially go into heat. ‘Is this… is this happening now, or-?’

‘No, but I felt I must warn you. It is possible that, due to my half-human status, I may never enter pon farr.’

Jim nodded, smiling despite the lingering fear he felt. He knew that Spock would never willingly hurt him, and he wanted desperately to make love with him, but after what Faeral had put him through, his balls practically climbed into his stomach when he thought about sex. As if reading his mind – though he probably sensed his unease through the bond – Spock reached out to stroke his hair off his face, his touch lingering.

‘I will never demand anything of you that you are not ready for,’ he assured Jim, dark eyes so earnest that Jim couldn’t help but believe him. ‘However, at that time, I will not be in control of myself. Should pon farr ever occur at a time that you are uncomfortable with engaging in intercourse, meditation has been known to counteract the blood fever.’

Jim’s eyes narrowed. That was vague for Spock.

‘How often?’

Spock blinked, ears darkening in a way that let Jim know that he was flustered.

‘Statistically, success is negligible. However-’

‘No,’ Jim said firmly. He couldn’t stand the thought of Spock getting hurt because of him. ‘Look, I-I can’t pretend that I’m in a great place at the moment, but there is no way that I would _ever_ let harm come to you because I refused to help. What happens if you don’t have sex, or meditate?’

‘Death,’ Spock muttered, and panic flared in Jim, who clutched at his shirt.

‘That settles it then. No running off to meditate. I’ll deal.’

Spock seemed prepared to argue, but one look from Jim silenced him, his mouth falling shut as Jim shifted into a more comfortable position. Jim was content to be quiet. Even with the merry-go-round of his memories playing through the back of his mind, he was still basking in the reignited bond, the feelings of safety, comfort, and love surrounding him with warmth. Touching Spock was addictive; in their comfortable silence, Jim couldn’t help but reach out to trace over the features of his face. That softly rounded nose, those lovely pointed ears, and the jawline upon which he could feel stubble, even if he couldn’t see it.

‘You need a shave,’ he smiled, brushing a kiss against his neck. ‘Spock with a beard. Wonder what that would look like.’

‘I do not intend to find out,’ Spock said primly, and Jim laughed, feeling lighter than before.

‘I suppose it would be a little strange.’

As Jim reached up once more, Spock caught hold of his hand. Gently, he stroked paired fingers from the heel of Jim’s palm to the tips of his fingers, the thumb of the hand that cradled Jim’s wrist rubbing lightly over his pulse point.

‘I do not mean to push,’ he murmured, taking Jim’s hand between his own, ‘but do you wish to talk about the memories you relived?’

Jim’s first instinct was to say no. Since he’d left Tarsus, avoidance and pretence had been his best strategies to get the chosen few who knew off his back about it. Even Bones, whom Jim trusted implicitly, knew not to mention it. Jim had only told him about Tarsus on enough Jack to leave him groaning in bed for the next day, and the memory of his tears was enough to turn Jim’s stomach. He didn’t know about Frank’s friend. Jim didn’t want to imagine the fallout of _that_ conversation.

‘I don’t know,’ he said finally, grimacing as his heart fluttered wildly. Feeling the first twinges of panic, he tried to ignore it, focusing on keeping his breath even. ‘My life was such a shitshow before I hit the Academy, the only way I knew how to cope was to try and forget about it. I’m scared that talking about Tarsus and Barrett will start something in me I don’t know how to stop.’

‘Barrett?’

‘Frank’s friend,’ Jim replied, lightheaded. His skin felt clammy, and he struggled to draw in enough breath.

‘Jim,’ Spock said, and although Jim could sense the urgency in his voice, it sounded to him like Spock was speaking from underwater. ‘T’hy’la, are you well?’

Jim shuddered, clutching at his arm. The room seemed like it was closing in on him, but when Bones came storming in, he cringed away from the hypo that was being directed towards his neck.

‘Come on, Jim. It’ll help you calm down.’

With a full-scale panic attack looming on the horizon, Jim didn’t fight him. He gasped in relief as his airway opened, and he slumped back into Spock’s waiting arms, exhausted. Spock cradled him close, and although Jim was aware of him and Bones speaking above his head, he couldn’t summon the energy to listen. It was only when Spock called his name, stroking the back of his knuckles over Jim’s cheekbone, that Jim roused himself.

‘What?’ he blurted, his head clearing of the fuzziness that had stolen his focus.

‘I asked how you were feelin’,’ Bones frowned, tricorder already raised. ‘That was a pretty serious panic attack.’

‘Like shit,’ Jim said honestly, a headache nagging at his temples, ‘but better than before. Thanks.’

Bones nodded, his mouth pursed in a way that Jim had only seen when he was truly anxious.

‘Physically, you’ll heal up pretty soon, but mentally, it might be a longer road. I’ll do all I can to help you, and I’m sure Spock will as well, but I want you to be prepared for that.’

‘Psych evals and all,’ Jim muttered, trying to suppress the panic that accompanied those words. It was only then that he noticed the undercurrent of calm that was not his own, and he cuddled back into Spock, grateful for his help. When he spoke, Jim could feel the rumble of his voice against his back, and it calmed him further.

‘You will not be alone in this, Jim.’

‘Thanks,’ Jim smiled weakly, struggling to suppress a yawn.

‘Jim is tired,’ he heard Spock say, obviously not directed at him. ‘Perhaps further discussion could wait until tomorrow, Doctor.’

‘Yeah, fine. But if he needs me, you call, all right? Jimmy?’

‘Yeah?’ Jim murmured, letting Spock take most of his weight. His eyelids drooped.

‘If you need anything, ask Spock. He can get me if that’s what you want.’

Jim nodded sleepily, beginning to turn in Spock’s arms.

‘Thanks, Bones.’

‘Night, Jim.’

After Bones left, Spock dropped a soft kiss onto Jim’s forehead, and began to lay him down on the bed, easing out from behind him. Jim made a quiet sound of discontent, panic rising even through whatever Bones had stuck him with as he clutched at Spock’s sleeve.

‘Can you… can you stay? I don’t want to be alone, _please.’_

He knew he sounded pathetic, but he’d rather embarrass himself than be without Spock right now. Even though the hollowness was gone from his mind, and he could feel the warmth of Spock’s presence there in its place, the thought of waking up without him made Jim go cold.

‘My intention was never to leave you, ashaya,’ Spock said softly, guiding him back down as he adjusted the biobed. ‘I am simply trying to make you more comfortable.’

Affection rose in Jim so intensely he could barely contain it, stealing his breath in a rather different way. Spock touched two fingers to his cheek before bending to remove his socks and tuck them neatly in his boots. Jim was somewhat surprised that he hadn’t folded them.

‘Are you not taking some of your clothes off?’ he asked, faintly disappointed, when Spock sat back on the bed wearing the rest of his uniform.

‘I would in our quarters,’ Spock replied, and the way he said ‘our’ made Jim’s heart skip a beat. ‘However, I feel uncomfortable doing so here.’

‘That undershirt will be uncomfortable. Maybe just keep your blues on?’

Spock hesitated for a second or two, but then he tugged both shirts off at once, drawing Jim’s eyes immediately to his chest. Part of Jim was hungry for him; he wanted to know what the hair on his chest felt like, wanted to touch and kiss and tease those nipples until he knew whether or not they flushed the same green as Spock’s face. He wanted to lay him down and undress him entirely, to make love to him like he deserved, but he knew that he couldn’t cope with that right now, even with the Vulcan he loved. Still, he was disappointed when Spock quickly covered himself, situating himself snugly beside Jim.

‘Computer, raise the temperature five degrees.’

‘Jim, you will become too hot,’ Spock warned, but Jim merely snuggled into him.

‘I like being hot.’

With an almost inaudible sigh, Spock put his arm around Jim to pull him carefully against his chest, nuzzling into the hair at his crown. Jim wriggled in delight, laying his recently-healed arm across Spock’s stomach as he settled his head in the cradle of his shoulder.

‘Let me know if you are uncomfortable, t’hy’la.’

‘I won’t be,’ Jim argued sleepily, inhaling his comforting smell. ‘Hey, uh, you don’t mind if… This is really pathetic, but I’m not great with the dark, so-’

‘It is not pathetic. Lights, ten per cent.’ It was dim enough for sleep, but the faint glow around them soothed Jim unimaginably. ‘Will that suffice, beloved?’

Jim nodded, affection blooming in him with how considerate Spock was being.

‘I love you,’ he blurted, blushing into his shirt.

‘I cherish thee,’ Spock said thickly, tilting his chin up for a kiss. It was gentle and sweet, and Spock dropped a few butterfly kisses onto his lips before letting go. With a sigh, Jim settled back into his arms, and despite all that had happened to him over the last fortnight, he was unbelievably happy. He was back on his lady, and sleeping in the embrace of the Vulcan he had loved for so long without any hope of reciprocation. He was right where he belonged.

‘Night, sweetheart,’ he breathed, barely awake in the aftermath of Bones’ concoctions and the trauma of the day.

Spock’s arms tightened around him, and he felt one final kiss against his crown before he dropped off, Spock’s voice echoing quietly inside his head.

_Goodnight, t’hy’la. I will be here when you wake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, these soft boys <33 I think they deserved a bit of TLC :)
> 
> I just wanted to say thank you so much, everyone, for your ongoing support! Reading your comments on the last chapter boosted me so much, you have no idea! I'd be really grateful if the feedback continues - it motivates me like you wouldn't believe :D Next chapter will be up either in a fortnight or three weeks; it depends on how much I can get done around work, etc., but I'll try my damndest to write when I can! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, and please comment if you did :) I can be found over [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) if anyone's interested, and I hope everyone has a good weekend!


	14. The Courage Of Stars

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Spock was warm when he woke. Jim was still in his arms, the soft whistling of his breath slow and steady, and his expression lax. His soft hair was tousled, his body curled tight around Spock, with his good hand resting limply over Spock’s heart. He was beautiful, and Spock was overcome. Careful not to wake Jim, he drew a line of gentle Vulcan kisses from his temple to the curve of his jaw, resisting the temptation of the soft pink lips that were parted in sleep. If he were to wake like this every day, with Jim by his side, he’d never want for anything again. Apart from – perhaps – children, but Jim had shown himself to be not only willing, but eager in that regard.

Sliding his fingers through Jim’s thick hair, Spock couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have children with him. They would take after Jim in personality, he was sure. Bright, smiling, happy children, with no fear of being scolded for displaying emotion, and likely a mischievous streak as well. Spock would not mind that, as long as they were content. Of course, if they were to be conceived using a combination of his and Jim’s DNA, they would require some measure of Vulcan discipline, but Spock would not force that beyond what was necessary. He had endured too many years of cutting away parts of himself to fit into a mould for which he was not meant, and he would not permit that life for his little ones. Idly, he wondered about their appearances; he was certain that they would be as beautiful as Jim, but perhaps they would have ears like his. Time would tell, but he could not resist curiosity.

Spock’s attention was caught by the quiet mumble that left Jim’s lips as he shifted against Spock’s chest, fingers clutching reflexively at his shirt. Unable to resist, Spock leant down to brush a kiss against his forehead, and Jim settled once more, sliding a leg between his own. Spock shivered as he felt the beginnings of an erection against his thigh, scolding himself for the flash of arousal it induced in him. It was a physiological reaction on Jim’s part – nothing more. Considering the horrific memories of rape Jim had experienced and his clear panic at the thought of engaging in intercourse, Spock could not imagine him wanting to make love in the near future. That did not matter. Despite his own intense desire, for Jim, Spock would wait forever.

He tensed at the sound of the door opening, curling himself around Jim in an instinctive move to protect him from the intruder he had not heard approach, his teeth baring in a silent growl.

‘Now, how am I supposed to examine my patient when he’s got a clingy Vulcan tied in knots around him?’

Spock’s teeth receded behind his lips at the sound of Leonard’s voice, the tension in him disappearing all at once. He raised an eyebrow as he turned his head towards the doorway, watching Leonard approach with a tricorder held aloft. His hold on Jim did not loosen.

‘I believe your instrumentation should be sensitive enough to distinguish between my biological makeup and Jim’s without disturbing him.’

‘You’re just determined to make my life harder, aren’t you?’ Leonard muttered, lifting the tricorder in an exaggerated arc over them both. ‘I need to look at that arm anyway.’

Eyeballing him with supreme displeasure, Spock carefully began to disentangle himself from Jim, shushing him gently as he let out a soft noise of distress.

‘My God, you two are the epitome of saccharine. I’m going to need a dentist if you carry on like this.’

‘It is a shame your medical talents do not extend to the oral cavity,’ Spock said blandly, watching closely as he unravelled the bandage. ‘If they did, perhaps you could cure your excessive compulsion to complain.’

His hands freezing over the wound, Leonard glared fiercely, but Spock remained unfazed.

‘Cheeky little bastard,’ Leonard muttered, examining the reddened wound with clinical precision. ‘You haven’t exactly been Miss Sunshine and Daisies this past fortnight either.’

‘I am aware.’

Leonard snorted humourlessly, beginning to re-wrap the bandage.

‘What did they do to him, Spock?’

Spock’s eyes flicked down towards the previously-broken arm, but Leonard shook his head vehemently, tying off the bandage.

‘I pretended not to notice last night, but he was like a rabbit in headlights when I arrived. And something happened when I touched his shoulder – he’s not right.’

As sharp-eyed as Leonard was, Spock had suspected that he would not have missed the change in Jim’s behaviour. Now that he had been proved right, he was glad at least that he would have someone to confide in. He would not disclose the content of Jim’s memories – those were his own to reveal or conceal as he pleased – but he knew that more information would enable Leonard to help him care for Jim.

‘Last night you saw that Jim struggled to believe that he was on the Enterprise,’ Spock said heavily, combing an absent hand through Jim’s sleep-tousled hair. ‘In addition to the rough physical treatment he has experienced at the hands of his captors, they also manipulated his mind in various ways, which has been far more damaging.’

‘How do you mean?’ Leonard demanded, gaze darting towards Jim and back.

Spock gently stroked his thumb over the nape of Jim’s neck, worrying at the downy hair there.

‘He was tortured with his own memories. All of his worst experiences were replayed in front of him, but not only did he _witness_ them, he _relived_ them. Faeral discovered a way in which to maximise the pain Jim felt, making him feel as if we were trapped in his own younger body.’                  

He swallowed thickly, forcing the wild fury that rose in him into submission. The need for revenge tore at him, but Jim was more important than his selfish feelings.

‘Perhaps even more cruelly, Faeral also taunted Jim with what was out of reach. He manipulated Jim with illusions of us together, and, I presume from his reaction when he woke, of being rescued and brought back to the Enterprise.’

McCoy’s jaw was set, his face ruddy with ire.

‘That absolute fucker,’ he raged, hands clenching into fists. ‘When I get my hands on him…’

‘I, too, wish to act upon my anger, but my wishes do not matter in this,’ Spock said bluntly, smoothing out the duvet over Jim. ‘Nor do yours. I am uncertain as to how this latest trauma may affect him, so we must remain vigilant, and be rational in our attempts to capture Faeral.’

Leonard gave a stiff nod, and for once, despite his mutinous expression, he did not argue.

‘How would you judge his mood? You were alone with him for a while.’

Spock let out a tiny sigh that was barely stronger than an exhalation, worry welling at the memory of Jim’s fear and pain.

‘His emotions were wildly varied, but we conversed about a number of subjects. He was, however, tearful on a number of occasions, and you saw his reaction to the mention of the memories that I saw through our connection.’

‘The panic attack,’ Leonard muttered, scrubbing a hand over his unshaven face. ‘The tears, I can cope with. Jim’s an emotional guy, you know that.’

‘I do,’ Spock said softly, glancing down at Jim as he shifted, murmuring in his sleep. ‘I do not consider tears a weakness. But I dislike seeing him upset.’

‘Me too, of course. You tell him how you feel?’

Spock nodded, fighting the smile that threatened to tug at his lips.

‘His response was favourable.’

‘’Course it was. Kid would marry you if you asked him-’ Leonard cut himself off, eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘You _didn’t_ ask him, did you?’

‘Not officially,’ Spock replied smoothly, enjoying the expression his teasing produced. ‘Although we both expressed our mutual desires to commit to one another.’

‘You want kids?’ Leonard questioned, blunt as ever.

‘I do. As does Jim.’

‘I know.’

There was a brief lapse in conversation, but when Leonard seemed about to continue his interrogation, Jim began shifting more restlessly, the pattern of his breathing changing to suggest that he would soon wake. Unashamed to display at least a measure of his affection in front of McCoy, Spock reached out to cradle his warm face, rubbing his thumb tenderly over the rise of his cheekbone.

‘Jim, t’hy’la, are you awake?’

Eyes closed, Jim stretched sleepily, his muscles trembling as he pushed his hands up towards the ceiling. He huffed out a heavy breath, eyelids fluttering, and as Spock thumbed over his lip, his eyes opened fully. His gaze was dreamy at first, but very soon, that was replaced by mistrust. He jerked in fright when Spock’s hand trailed across his shoulder, and Spock could tell that he was steeling himself for a confrontation similar to that of last night.

‘K’ai, taluhk-veh,’ he crooned, opening up the bond to allow the love he felt to blanket Jim in warmth. ‘You are safe, and here with me.’

‘This is real, Jim,’ Leonard added, approaching the other side of the bed.

Slowly, the hunted look in Jim’s eyes evaporated, and he allowed Spock to take his hand in a gentle hold. Both of them ignored the choking sound that Leonard emitted.

‘Promise?’ Jim said tremulously, almost like a child. Although he may have been addressing them both, his gaze did not move from Spock’s own.

Spock gently rubbed his thumb over Jim’s knuckles, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that ignited in him at the friction between their hands.

‘I promise.’

‘How’re you feeling, Jimmy?’

‘Okay,’ Jim murmured, still pale as he began to sit up. He shot Spock a small, grateful smile when Spock reached out to slide his hands underneath Jim’s arms, carefully lifting him into an upright position. ‘How’s the ship?’

‘There have been no negative developments as far as I am aware. I will bring you a full report from the Bridge after my shift finishes.’

Jim’s little smile dimmed; Spock suspected that it was because he would be leaving, but Jim was the last person who would put his own needs above those of the ship.

‘He’ll be back later,’ Leonard reminded him, and Spock nodded.

‘I will also visit at lunchtime.’

That seemed to console Jim somewhat, the bond lightening and calming. Spock discreetly squeezed his hand beneath the duvet, before reluctantly sliding off the bed.

‘I will speak with Eana regarding your return,’ he announced, reaching for his uniform undershirt. ‘I will also have to speak with the Admiralty to inform them that you are back.’

‘Joy,’ Jim deadpanned, tugging at one of the wires attached to him. ‘Bones, when can I eat something?’

Leonard rolled his eyes.

‘I’m a doctor, not a chef. I’ll go and replicate you something bland.’

‘Nice,’ Jim muttered, folding his arms as Leonard left the room. He turned to Spock with a pleading expression as he reached down to replace his uniform boots. ‘Can’t you stay just a little longer?’

There was nothing Spock wanted more, but he knew that his hygiene practices would make him late if he did not leave soon.

‘I must shower and change before shift, beloved,’ he explained, pulling off his shirt in order to replace his uniform blacks underneath.

He was close enough that Jim could reach out and touch him, and did so with wistful affection, his hand smoothing across the thick hair surrounding Spock’s navel.

‘And you can’t shower here because your fresh uniforms are in your quarters,’ Jim sighed, sliding his hand away in order to allow Spock to dress himself.

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

In truth, he was concerned about leaving Jim in this vulnerable state, but he had little choice. At least he would have the bond in order to evaluate Jim’s emotional state should it become a concern. Jim watched him replace his shirts and tug them smooth, eyes filled with unease.

‘Duty calls,’ he smiled, but it was strained.

‘Should you be in need of me, I will come,’ Spock promised, picking up his padd.

‘I know,’ Jim said quietly, holding out his arms. ‘C’mere, hon.’

Spock went willingly, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Jim into a warm embrace, mouthing at his temple.

‘I love you,’ he breathed, cupping his face and drawing back in order to look him in the eye. _I love you._

‘I love you too,’ Jim whispered, his eyes suspiciously bright. Before Spock could ask if he was all right, Jim leant in for a kiss that was chaste and lingering at the same time, their mouths moving slowly and softly together. Spock’s eyes remained closed even as they parted, receptive to the careful brushes of Jim’s lips, but eventually, he knew he must leave. Pulling back with a final, harder kiss, he trailed his fingers along Jim’s face, and stood. Jim’s expression was blissful, but as Spock moved away, it faltered slightly.

‘I’ll see you at lunch, yeah?’

‘Yes, Jim.’

‘Okay, then.’ Even with time ticking away, Spock found himself wishing not to leave, but Jim was quick to catch on. ‘Go on then, Commander. Look after our ship for me.’

‘Yes, Captain,’ Spock said hoarsely, both instinct and the bond screaming for him not to go. He left nonetheless, casting a look back at Jim, who was once more snuggling down into the duvet.

As he travelled down the corridor out of Medbay, he met Leonard coming the other way, carrying a tray of soup and bread.

‘He all right?’ Leonard asked, sharp eyes flickering over Spock’s face.

‘I am not certain,’ Spock admitted, allowing his shoulders to slump a centimetre or two. ‘Please, Doctor, watch over him while I am gone.’

Leonard nodded solemnly, and Spock trusted that he would.

‘Are _you_ all right?’

‘I do not know,’ Spock said quietly, holding up a hand when Leonard attempted to speak. ‘I will be fine. Please look after Jim.’

He swept past without another glance, barely hearing the ‘I will!’ that was called after him. Although his bond with Jim was not a marriage bond, the settling period in its reestablishment was similar, and Spock was certainly feeling the effects. The bond had ignited an intense protectiveness, and leaving Jim alone had been a struggle. However, Spock had a responsibility to the ship and to the people aboard her, and in Jim’s absence, he would not allow anything further to go wrong.

Conscious of the time, once back in his quarters, Spock washed and dressed with speed, snatching up a protein bar to eat for breakfast. As he prepared to leave, he noticed the blanket which he had previously donated to Jim folded neatly at the end of his bed, and he picked it up with the intention of delivering it to Medbay. He would have gone himself, as his swift ablutions had left him with a little spare time, but when he emerged from his quarters, Nurse Chapel was also on the corridor.

‘Nurse!’ he called after her, holding out the blanket when she turned. ‘Please give this to the Captain. I believe it will be a comfort to him.’

Chapel smiled with eyes that were far too knowing, and took the blanket from him. In the periphery of his vision, Spock could see Yeoman Rand waiting for her at the end of the corridor.

‘I’ll make sure he gets it. We’re all glad he’s back, Commander.’

Spock gave her a stiff nod, thanking her before making his way to the turbolift and taking it to the Bridge.

‘Commander on the Bridge!’ he was greeted with, along with a series of bright smiles.

‘How is he?’ Nyota asked eagerly. ‘Leonard wouldn’t let anyone visit yet.’

Spock could feel many pairs of eyes upon him as he spoke –

‘He is healing well, and if all goes well, he should be transferred to his quarters soon. However, visitation remains prohibited for the moment.’

The disappointment that may have been felt regarding the decision to isolate Jim was clearly overridden by the relief at his condition, judging by the officers’ smiles. Nyota had tears in her eyes, and Spock inclined his head towards her in a silent attempt at reassurance.

‘It’s great that he’s doing well,’ Mister Scott grinned, having vacated the Chair when Spock had appeared on the Bridge. ‘Do you still need me up here, Commander?’

Spock shook his head, mildly amused by the relief on Scott’s face.

‘I will be resuming my duties, and the Captain will do the same in approximately a week. However, I would like you to be present at the senior officers’ meeting I will be calling at 0900.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Scott promised, his hand trailing discreetly across Nyota’s back as he made to leave. ‘Let us know when we’re allowed to visit the Captain.’

‘Of course.’

‘0900?’ Nyota asked, seeing Mister Scott off with a smile.

‘Yes, in the Captain’s Ready Room,’ Spock confirmed, folding his hands behind his back. ‘I would like the senior officers there, excluding Doctor McCoy and the Captain, of course. But first, I need to speak to the Admiralty.’

‘I’ll patch Admiral Zhang through to the Ready Room,’ Nyota suggested, and Spock nodded gratefully, casting his gaze over to Sulu and Chekov at the helm. Chekov was watching him with some measure of concern in his eyes, and while Spock was speaking to them all, he addressed Chekov in particular when he next spoke.

‘I will inform you further in the meeting, but I can assure you that the Captain is no longer in mortal danger.’

Chekov’s lips twitched up in a small smile, and he turned back to the helm, apparently satisfied.

‘Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn,’ Spock informed him, waiting for his acknowledgement before leaving the Bridge the way he had come, making for Jim’s Ready Room.

While the bond was relatively calm for now, Spock still felt uneasy about being away from Jim, particularly when he was traumatised. In checking on his wellbeing for not the first time that morning, Spock discovered no overt signs of a deterioration in his mental state, but a strange, lingering melancholy nonetheless. His heart squeezing, he did his utmost to soothe Jim through the bond in a mental caress, pleased when the melancholy lifted slightly.

_Peace, t’hy’la._

Spock made certain to shield Jim from his aggravation in anticipation of speaking with Admiral Zhang. While she herself had obviously not been complicit in Jim’s abduction, it was the unwise decision of Starfleet Command that facilitated it. Sitting heavily before the vidscreen in the Ready Room, he notified Nyota of his presence, and had adopted an entirely blank expression by the time Admiral Zhang appeared onscreen.

‘Commander,’ she greeted, a guarded hope in her expression. ‘Have you found him?’

‘We have,’ Spock replied, voice clipped. ‘Not unscathed, however.’

Zhang’s mouth drew into a thin line, her form stiffening.

‘How badly is he injured?’

‘Physically, he will soon heal. He had a fractured arm, a serious head injury, and numerous other gashes, contusions and scrapes. The intelligence surrounding the Euridians’ psychic capabilities was also accurate.’

‘Hell.’ The word fell from Zhang’s mouth on an exhalation, her eyebrows drawing together. ‘Is he mentally sound?’

He is,’ Spock said tightly. ‘He is remarkably resilient. I am not certain that others would have fared as well.’

Zhang nodded, sitting back in her chair.

‘I’m glad he’s recovering, if not that he’s suffered. What of his captors?’

‘As suspected, they were the rebel group led by Faeral. Eana and her security team have since captured a number of the group, but Faeral remains at large. I would like your permission to aid them in locating and detaining him.’

Asking was merely a courtesy. He would not take no for an answer. The Admiral remained silent for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

‘It’s the least I can allow. Of course, if there is an emergency in the quadrant, we’ll need to divert you.’

‘Naturally,’ Spock said smoothly. ‘I will update you if there are any developments.’

‘Thank you.’ Zhang leant forward, her severe expression softening. ‘Please give the Captain my best. I’m sure the last few weeks haven’t been pleasant for him.’

‘I will. Spock out.’

A few minutes later, after Spock had contacted the Bridge, the senior officers began arriving, the last being Mister Scott. It was odd not to see the Captain and Doctor McCoy around the table, but knowing that Jim was safe in Medbay lightened Spock’s unease. Clearing his throat to interrupt Chekov and Sulu’s quiet conversation, he addressed the whole group, who all fell silent.

‘I’ve gathered you here to speak with you about the Captain’s abduction and our next movements. As suspected in our last meeting, it was Faeral and his followers who took the Captain, imprisoning him in an area near the ruins of the old Pirilian palace.’

‘Was he badly hurt?’ Sulu asked, his forehead pinched in a frown.

‘His arm was badly fractured, and he had a head injury,’ Spock replied, his hand clenching the edge of his chair beneath the table. ‘He also had various minor injuries, but he is healing well. However, we did not underestimate the mental capabilities of the Euridians.’

There was a significant hush around the table. Some expressions were dark with anger; some were fearful. Nyota, whose own expression was filled with concern, asked the obvious.

‘What does that mean for the Captain?’

Spock hesitated. He did not wish to give more details than needed, so as protect Jim’s privacy, but he also trusted his crewmates, and they would be valuable allies in ensuring Jim’s wellbeing.

‘As previously explained,’ he began carefully, ‘the Euridians have psychic abilities which stretch to creating illusions. They have the capability to force a person to relive memories in the most immersive of ways, and to delude them into believing that illusions are reality. The Captain has returned mentally sound, but he has suffered mental torture as well as the physical.’

Again, that strange hush. Chekov looked teary-eyed, and there was spots of colour at the height of Mister Scott’s cheekbones, indicating his anger.

‘What can we do?’ Scott asked roughly.

‘I will be taking the advice of Doctor McCoy in this matter, but we must continue on as normally as possible for the moment. Please do not treat him differently than before. He may be vulnerable, but he is not weak, and he would not appreciate it.’

There were no complaints, to Spock’s relief. With an almost imperceptible sigh, he turned to Nyota, who offered him a weak smile.

‘Has the ship been contacted by Prime Minister Eana since we left Pirilia?’

She shook her head, communicator in hand.

‘I can try and get through to her now if you want.’

‘Please,’ Spock requested, and a few minutes later, with the help of Lieutenant Hawkins on the Bridge, Eana appeared onscreen. She bore marks from the struggle with the rebel group; there was deep bruising on one side of her face, and it appeared that a gill had also been torn. Still, she faced them as proudly as ever, her sharp eyes alighting on Spock.

‘How is your Captain?’

‘Still healing,’ Spock replied shortly, attempting to contain his irritation. Perhaps it was illogical, but not only had Eana’s overconfidence led to Jim’s abduction, but her Security team had also allowed Faeral to escape. ‘It seems that Faeral utilised his psychic capabilities with enthusiasm.’

Eana closed her eyes briefly, opening them with resignation in her expression.

‘Though we are all equipped with mental abilities, to use them in such a way is shameful. He remains at large, but we are doing all we can to locate him.’

‘I spoke with Starfleet Command this morning,’ Spock informed her. ‘We have permission to aid you in the search. In the coming days, I will be in contact with you to ascertain how best to do so, but today, we will use what technology we have on the Enterprise to attempt to locate him.’

‘Thank you. If anything comes of our own search, I will let you know.’

Spock inclined his head, and with no sentiment, said goodbye. He dismissed the senior officers, and followed most of them to the Bridge, ordering the DNA swabs they had taken from Jim’s uniform shirt to be inputted into the computer. To preserve the clothing had not been Spock’s idea. In his desperation to ensure Jim’s safety on his return, he had perhaps allowed emotion to overtake logic, but fortunately, Ensign Ferreira had not. Before one of the yeomen had been able to dispose of what could have been vital evidence, she had taken the shirt from them and into one of the laboratories. It was an intelligent action that Spock would certainly be commending.

He was acutely aware of the hour, the twinging of the bond reminding him of his promise to return to Jim at lunch, but he still had time to pass the evidence along to Lieutenant Patel. Though he had little faith that the scan would yield positive results, knowing of the previous success Faeral had in concealing Jim, he saw no harm in the attempt. Soon enough, however, it was 1200 hours, and Spock immediately handed over the conn, making for Medbay.

When he arrived, Jim looked pale and wan, but when he noticed Spock’s presence, his lips stretched into a dazzling smile that made Spock’s breath hitch.

‘Hey, t’hy’la,’ he said brightly, a flush in his cheeks. ‘Am I… am I saying it right?’

‘You are,’ Spock said warmly, unable to deny the rush of affection that had come over him when they were once again together. Without hesitation, he strode over to the bed and brought Jim into an embrace, pressing his nose into the soft hair at his crown. Jim’s usual sweet scent was masked by that of medical grade shampoo, but Spock didn’t mind very much; just holding him made the bond – and his heart – flutter.

‘Missed me?’

‘I have, taluhk,’ Spock admitted quietly, drawing away just enough to press their lips together. He adored the little sigh of pleasure Jim exhaled against him as Spock’s hand stroked across his back, and in response, he sucked Jim’s lower lip into his mouth. He worried at it only for a moment, lapping smoothly over it as he reluctantly let go, taking his lips in a sweet kiss before leaning back. Though both the bond and his body called for consummation, he made certain to repress his desire. He did not wish to injure Jim, or worse, frighten him.

Far from seeming frightened, Jim tugged him down onto the biobed when they parted, his arms looping around Spock’s neck as he sat.

‘I missed you too,’ he said shyly, reddened lips quirking in a smile. ‘Thanks for the blanket by the way.’

‘I thought perhaps you might be cold.’

‘It smells like you,’ Jim blurted, then flushed an endearing shade of pink.

Spock laid a soft kiss upon his brow, unable to resist when his t’hy’la was blushing so prettily.

‘I am glad it brings you comfort,’ he murmured, tucking the blanket back around him.

 _‘You_ bring me comfort. Was… before, I felt all warm and tingly, and I heard you in my head.’

‘Yes, tal-kam,’ Spock said softly, nuzzling at his temple. Perhaps he was being overbearing, but touching Jim soothed his own lingering distress, and – he hoped – some of Jim’s fears. ‘I could feel that you were upset, and I wished to calm you.’

A warm hand cupped his cheek, and a soft smile met his eyes before he was guided into a gentle kiss, one that ended entirely too soon. When they parted, Jim buried his face into the crook of his neck, and Spock cradled him protectively, carding a hand through his hair.

‘I know that you are tired, Jim, but you must stay awake long enough for food. And I also have a surprise for you.’

The drowsiness that Spock could feel through the bond was instantly overridden by intrigue, but before Jim could ask, Spock put a finger to his lips.

‘I will inform you after we have eaten,’ he promised, taking Jim’s hand between his own as he pouted. ‘Do not sulk, beloved. What would you like?’

‘You’re letting me choose?’ Jim asked incredulously, his eyes lighting up.

‘So long as you choose something within reason, yes. I do not want you to fall ill.’

‘Stir fry?’

Spock nodded, and within a few minutes, he had returned to the room with their food. He had chosen the same thing, intrigued by the smell, and it was only when he took the first bite that he realised quite how hungry he was. Unsurprisingly, he had neglected his own needs over the past fortnight, lacking both the time and the inclination to eat, but Jim’s safety seemed to have reignited his appetite.

‘This is really good,’ Jim mumbled, eating perhaps too quickly for his delicate stomach. Feeling faintly guilty that he had not been there for Jim’s first meal after returning, given his difficulties with food and his recent enforced starvation, Spock gently took hold of his wrist to calm him. Jim froze, flushing deeply, but Spock only stroked a thumb over his radius, encouraging him to eat.

‘I am glad you are enjoying it, t’hy’la.’

Jim’s lips curved ever so slightly, and although he calmed the pace a little, he was still eating, which Spock considered a success.

‘So, um, what’ve you been doing on the Bridge this morning?’

‘Most of my time was spent in your Ready Room,’ Spock replied, cutting up his noodles neatly. ‘I informed the Admiralty of your return, obtained permission to aid the Euridians in finding Faeral, and contacted Eana to inform her. I also spoke with the senior officers regarding your condition.’

Jim, hands shaking enough to make his cutlery rattle against his plate, put down his fork.

‘What did you tell them?’ he asked, anxiety rather than anger filtering through the bond.

‘Nothing that you would not wish them to know,’ Spock promised, putting down his own fork to take his hand. ‘Only that your captors were keen to torture you mentally as well as physically.’

Jim let a nervous little laugh escape, and Spock moved their plates aside in order to hold him, keen to stop his trembling.

‘It’s so fucked up, Spock. It’s not like I was actually there again, but it felt like I was. I shouldn’t be this freaked.’

‘You have every right to be ‘freaked’,’ Spock assured him, smoothing out the blanket. ‘You have experienced a unique trauma, but a trauma nonetheless, and we are all available to support you if you are struggling. I can assure you, none of our officers will judge you in any way.’

Jim nodded jerkily, and to Spock’s relief, the shaking died down.

‘I won’t go into details, though. I only want you to know. Maybe Bones at some point, but I trust you not to tell anyone.’

‘Of course,’ Spock said softly, cuddling him close. ‘I am sorry that you did not get the choice to tell me on your own terms about the memories I inadvertently saw, but I am grateful that I now have the opportunity to try and protect you from them.’

Jim gave him a crooked smile, leaning his head against Spock’s shoulder.

‘It’s probably better you saw them that way,’ he murmured. ‘Even if you only saw snapshots, you got the gist.’

Spock nodded, kissing him on the forehead.

‘And if you ever feel the need to confide in me about a memory, I will gladly listen.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ Jim smiled, wincing as he settled back down in bed. ‘What’s my surprise, anyway? I don’t think I can eat any more.’

Wordlessly, Spock reached for his padd, and without letting Jim see, contacted his brother. He was not certain that he would answer, especially with such a young infant to care for, but after only three rings, the call connected.

‘Hey, Commander,’ Sam panted, obviously out of breath. His eyes were wide with worry. ‘Is Jim okay?’

‘He is well,’ Spock replied, angling the screen away from an increasingly curious Jim. ‘He is here and awake, and I believe you have a surprise for him.’

It took a second or two, but then Sam’s tired eyes lit up.

‘I’ll be back in a minute!’ he called, dashing out of sight of the padd. While he was gone, Spock angled it so that Jim could see as well, feeling his excitement and anticipation with a rush of fondness.

‘Spock, what’s he getting?’

Lips quirking, Spock leant over to kiss him, but Jim pulled away after only a few seconds, eyes bright with realisation.

‘Oh my God,’ he breathed, grabbing Spock’s hand and squeezing hard enough to make Spock feel light-headed. ‘Aurelan was about ready to give birth before we went down to Euridian.’

Spock only offered him that secretive smile before composing himself when Sam came back into the room, a bundle in his arms.

‘Sam?’ Jim croaked, his voice wavering dangerously. Spock discreetly put an arm around him as Sam sat down before the screen, and gently arranged the infant so that he was sat on one of Sam’s hands, supporting his neck as he was held up to the camera.

‘You have a nephew, Jim.’

Spock marvelled anew at how small and delicate the baby was, tiny hands grasping ineffectually at the air as a little mouth opened in a yawn. Jim, meanwhile, was choking on a sob, reaching out just as ineffectually to the child.

‘He’s beautiful,’ he said tearfully, affection bursting through the bond. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Peter,’ Sam smiled, bringing the infant back against his chest. ‘He’s six days old today, and he already knows his Uncle Spock.’

Spock fought a blush as Jim turned to look at him, eyes alight with love.

‘Oh really?’

‘Yes, we met when you were… gone,’ Spock said roughly, accepting a gentle Vulcan kiss with gratitude.

‘I’m back now, and I’m not leaving again,’ Jim promised, taking his hand into a loose hold as he turned back to Sam. ‘How’s Aurie?’

‘Tired, but doing well. She can move around and all, but she’s sore and uncomfortable with the bleeding. I’m trying to take on as much of the childcare as I can but he’s breastfeeding, so…’

‘Is that a lot better then?’ Jim asked, and Spock felt warmth in his chest as he realised the direction of his thoughts. ‘Breastfeeding, I mean.’

Sam shrugged, hitching Peter up.

‘Supposedly, but there are other options, say, if you guys wanted to have a baby.’

Spock could not contain the rush of joy he felt at the thought of having their own children, and neither could Jim, judging by the happiness Spock could sense through their connection. He squeezed Jim’s hip gently, unwilling to display too much affection in front of his brother, but wanting Jim to know of his reciprocity.

_One day, ashal-veh._

‘Hey, look at this, Jim,’ Sam said excitedly, turning the little one round once more. ‘You awake, Petey? Wake up for Daddy.’

He stroked the baby’s cheek with the back of his finger, until with a soft mewl, Peter’s eyes slowly blinked open. Spock found it difficult to repress a smile at Jim’s wonder, watching as the baby focused on what was quite possibly two blurs in the distance, with eyes just as beautiful as those of his uncle.

‘He’s got our eyes,’ Jim smiled, though the smile evaporated when Peter squirmed, burbling in discontent. ‘Oh, oh, no. Shhh, Peter. It’s okay, darling.’

Peter grizzled as Sam rocked him, cradling him against his chest.

‘Ahh, Sam, I want to cuddle him so bad.’

Spock could feel his longing in the form of a sharp ache, and he could not deny his own instinct to soothe the child, who by now was beginning to wail.

‘I’ll have to go take him for a feed in a sec,’ Sam told them, patting the little one’s bottom. ‘But I do want to know - is this a serious relationship?’

‘Absolutely,’ Spock asserted, just as Jim nodded, and Sam smiled despite the din.

‘Good. You’d better look after him Spock.’

‘Sammy…’

‘No, Jim.’ Shifting his little son so that he lay against his chest, Sam fixed Spock with a hard stare. ‘As I’m sure you already know, Jim’s been through some awful things, and you’ve now taken on the responsibility of his care. If you hurt him, Vulcan or not, I’ll kick your ass. Understood?’

While unintimidated, Spock inclined his head.

‘I would do nothing to harm him,’ he said softly, pulling Jim closer with the hand at his waist. ‘And I can assure you, Mister Kirk, if I ever made the mistake of doing so, you would not be the first to get to me.’

Sam grinned, hushing his wailing child.

‘Good. Now I’ve really got to go. Speak soon, guys.’

‘Bye, Sammy.’

‘Goodbye, Sam.’

The picture blinked out, and a moment later, Spock found himself being thoroughly kissed, Jim’s hand tugging gently at his hair as he ran his tongue over the seam of Spock’s lips. Overcome with affection for his beloved, Spock returned the kiss enthusiastically, drawing away only when he could feel Jim’s need for air.

‘Do you know how much I love you?’ Jim gasped, burying his face into Spock’s neck.

‘I believe I do, t’hy’la,’ Spock murmured, threading his fingers through the soft hair at his nape. The bond was once more pulsing with contentment. ‘As I reciprocate entirely.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, fluff and angst and a baby :D I needed to put Peter in there again, he's just so damn cute! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know in a comment if you did!! I truly appreciate every one, no matter if they're one word or ten paragraphs! :D
> 
> Also, if any of you guys are on tumblr, I'd really appreciate it if you would reblog my fic posts, which are all [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-of-his-soul)! It helps get the word out when I post a new chapter, which is awesome :)
> 
> I purposefully made this chapter a bit longer than usual because I'm going on holiday soon, so the next one will be up in 3 weeks! I hope this tides you over, and your comments will hopefully tide me over while I'm unable to write!! Hope everyone has a fab weekend :D


	15. Beyond This Place Of Wrath And Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. In this chapter, there are a number of references to sexual abuse towards the end, and there's a short, non-explicit memory of the same in italics from here 'Feeling safe and protected in his arms, Jim couldn’t help but obey.' to ‘Jim!’
> 
> I really hope you guys like this chapter - I worked really hard on it, and I think it details some really important moments for Jim especially!

Although he may have been sat in a hospital gown in the middle of Medbay, and just beginning to process the significant trauma he had experienced, Jim was happier than he’d ever been in his life. He was back on his lady, he had a beautiful new nephew, and most importantly, Spock loved him just as intensely as he loved Spock. Even when they’d been apart that morning, he had the constant comfort of the bond, letting him know that Spock was still there and safe and his. When he’d first woken in Medbay that morning, half-doubting that his rescue had been reality, he hadn’t imagined an outcome as perfect as this.

Spock’s hand was stroking slowly, soothingly, up and down his back, and as Jim carefully pulled back, he did not stop touching him.

‘I am glad that you liked my surprise, ashayam.’

Jim couldn’t help the smile that split his face as he thought about the way little Peter’s eyes had settled wide upon them, his tiny fists balling.

‘I loved it,’ he grinned, leaning against Spock’s shoulder. ‘Sam’s definitely a proud daddy. Sweet little boy.’

‘Yes. Would you have a preference for a son or daughter?’

‘You mean, if we-’ Jim’s breath caught, recalling the illusion that Faeral had cast into his mind, of the two of them and their children together. Even if it was fictional, he hoped desperately that one day, a version of it would come to pass. ‘I don’t mind, so long as they’re healthy. What about you?’

‘I agree,’ Spock said tenderly, the warmth in his eyes, ironically, making Jim shiver. ‘Though I would not mind one of each.’

‘Or two,’ Jim said under his breath, smirking at Spock’s raised eyebrow. ‘You disagree?’

Spock shook his head, offering Jim the little not-smile that had once been so rare.

‘No, although perhaps one would be best to begin with.’

His expression gave nothing away, but his eyes were teasing, and Jim grinned.

‘We’ll see.’ He took a moment to bask in Spock’s presence, but then he remembered their conversation before they’d seen the new baby, and his mood plummeted. ‘So, Eana still hasn’t found him.’

Spock didn’t have to ask who ‘him’ was. The bond flooded with dark anger, even as Spock held him close, but Jim wasn’t frightened. He knew who that anger was directed towards.

‘Not yet, but we _will_ find him. And when we do, he will be duly punished. I will make sure of it.’

His voice was harsh, an unforgiving bite to it that made Jim shiver, and yet, he was perversely pleased. If Spock was mad, then Faeral had no chance. He’d never seen Spock chase after Khan, but he’d heard the story enough from Uhura. Spock’s mindless pain and rage, his relentless pursuit, his murderous attack on the man who had killed his Captain; Jim was still overwhelmed by it all. He wouldn’t like to be in Faeral’s position right now.

‘I want him to pay for what he did to me,’ Jim said quietly. ‘And to his people.’

‘As do I,’ Spock agreed, dropping a quick kiss onto his forehead. He squeezed Jim tight for a long moment, before slowly letting go, doe eyes meeting Jim’s with regret.

Jim sighed, forcing a weak smile.

‘You have to go, don’t you? Will you help me over to the fresher first? It’s embarrassing when I have to ask Chrissie.’

‘Of course,’ Spock said warmly, sliding off the bed and holding out his arms. With shaky legs, Jim stood, gratefully accepting the support that Spock offered in the form of an arm around his waist. He leant heavily into him as he stumbled across to the bathroom, deriving an inexplicable amount of comfort from the thumb caressing the curve of his ribcage. Having made certain that he was steady, Spock stood outside the door as he peed and washed his hands, then helped him back to bed afterwards. As much as Jim appreciated it, he didn’t want to be in Medbay any longer. He hated hospitals – always had – and he didn’t see why he couldn’t be in his own quarters. Maybe if he asked Bones really, really nicely…

‘I will return at the end of Alpha shift, beloved,’ Spock promised, smoothing out the blanket before reaching up to stroke his cheek. ‘In the meantime, I am sure that my father and Selek would like to speak to you. I contacted them yesterday, but you were sleeping.’

Affection welled in Jim as he thought of Spock’s counterpart, ever available to support him, but Sarek was perhaps a different story.

‘I get Selek, but why would your dad want to speak to me?’

‘He, too, was anxious for your return, Jim,’ Spock said earnestly, sliding the hand on his face down to squeeze his bicep. ‘You are my t’hy’la, and therefore, you are part of our family.’

Jim felt his cheeks grow warm, an odd sort of pleasure washing over him. Of course, the crew of the Enterprise was his de facto family, but he’d never had anything like that off the ship.

‘I like that,’ he smiled, but the smile slowly faded along with the warmth inside. ‘Spock, the last time I interacted with your dad, it’s when I was goading you on the Bridge. How could he possibly consider me family after _that?’_

‘You forget that I attacked you, t’hy’la.’ The bond flooded with guilt, and Spock’s eyes too. ‘My father witnessed me strangle you almost to the point of unconsciousness, for which I will never forgive myself. He does not blame you, particularly as my counterpart has since explained the need for your words.’

Jim caught the hand on his bicep, manipulating it so that he was holding it in his own, their fingers lacing together.

‘You _should_ forgive yourself. I forgive you, love. I’m made of strong stuff, you know.’

‘I do,’ Spock replied softly, rubbing his thumb over the outside of Jim’s, ‘and my father, like everyone else who matters, believes you to be a strong and capable captain, and supports our relationship entirely. He will appreciate your call.’

Jim still couldn’t quite believe it, but he trusted Spock completely. Allowing his lips to curve into the fond smile they wanted to form, he leant forward and gently kissed Spock, drawing two fingers down the length of his palm.

‘I expect you at 1605 sharp, Commander,’ he murmured against his lips, pressing a few more short kisses there before drawing back. Spock looked somewhat dazed, eyes half-lidded and a soft flush across his cheeks, but he recovered quickly, nodding in response.

‘Yes, Captain.’

‘See you later, baby,’ Jim smiled, receiving a kiss to his knuckles as Spock walked away, tugging his uniform shirt down in that familiar twitch of a movement. Fondness choked Jim for a moment – he could barely breathe through it – but then his emotions calmed a little, aided by Spock’s calm, easy affection.

_I will return in 3.94 hours, t’hy’la. Rest._

Knowing that Spock was reachable through the bond settled his mood swings, comforting him immensely. He felt a little pathetic pining after Spock when he was going to be back in a few short hours, but something – whether his confinement in Pirilia or the resettling bond – was messing with his emotional control. Whatever was going on, the one thing he did know was that he loved Spock unconditionally, and with Spock’s support, he knew he could get through anything.

Reaching over to the bedside table, he picked up the padd that Spock had left with him, unable to contain a smile as he thought about Peter and Sam. When he was a kid, he couldn’t imagine either of them surviving long enough to have children, let alone being in a family unit with successful, stable parents. Though the reality might be a few years in the making, he was sure that if Sam and Aurie could do it, he and Spock could as well. Resting the padd on drawn-up knees, he commed Selek with a nervous roll to his stomach, hoping perhaps a little that Sarek would be at his own place. It took a few minutes for the call to connect, unsurprising considering how far out they were, but Selek’s face appeared soon enough, and the sight of him drew a wide smile from Jim.

‘Hey.’

‘Jim,’ Selek greeted, eyes smiling. ‘It is good to see you awake.’

‘Thanks,’ Jim grinned. ‘It’s good to _be_ awake.’

‘I am also glad to hear about your relationship with Spock.’

Jim blushed brightly, looking away from Selek’s knowing gaze.

‘You were right, as always. It’s… It’s wonderful.’

‘It is,’ Selek agreed, the twinkle in his eye disappearing as his expression grew solemn. ‘You have been attacked, and viciously so. Spock has informed us of the considerable psychic talents of the Euridians, but they should never have been used against you. How are you feeling?’

Jim prepared his usual bluster, intending to lie and be done with it, but when he looked at Selek, he found he didn’t want to mislead any version of Spock.

‘Not too great,’ he admitted, pushing his hands into the mattress to still that infernal trembling. ‘I mean, Spock is great. Perfect, even. But I relived stuff in there that I’ve buried for years, and I’m not sure how to deal with it exactly.’

There was sympathy in Selek’s face, but no pity. The way he looked at Jim made Jim feel somewhat transparent, as if he already understood how Jim was feeling. Then again, maybe he did. He had a Jim of his own, after all.

‘If you are anything like my Jim, which I believe you are, you will not interact well with mental health professionals. You are always welcome to speak with me about your memories, but I would assume that you would prefer to do so with your own Spock and Doctor McCoy.’

He hesitated, his expression making Jim uneasy.

‘There is also the option, if you so wished, to remove the memories of your suffering from your mind. It-’

‘No,’ Jim interrupted firmly, hands clutching at the duvet. ‘Sorry, but no. As much as I hate them, those experiences were my own. They made me who I am, my habits and personality have formed around them, and however much they haunt me, I won’t be without them.’

‘I understand.’

‘But yeah, I think Spock and Bones might be the best option.’ Jim cleared his throat painfully, wanting to change the subject. ‘Spock said _Sarek_ would want to speak to me.’

Selek nodded, his attention momentarily caught off-screen.

‘He does. One moment.’

‘Oh. Oh, now? He’s ther-hiii, Sarek.’

He raised an eyebrow in a way so similar to Spock that Jim couldn’t help but smile, making the eyebrow arch higher.

‘Captain. Are you well?’

‘I’m fine,’ Jim lied, avoiding Selek’s eyes. ‘Thanks for asking.’

There was a pause, in which Sarek and Selek exchanged a glance, before Selek spoke.

‘I will leave you for a moment.’

Jim didn’t get chance to object, and a few seconds later, he found himself squirming under the intensity of Sarek’s gaze.

‘You are in a relationship with my son.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jim said warily, attempting to draw himself further upright.

‘Spock is certain that you are his t’hy’la,’ Sarek continued, voice devoid of emotion. ‘I trust his judgement, and am aware that you have been a good friend to him. However, I am uncertain as to your intentions for the future.’

Shock widened Jim’s eyes.

‘Are you… giving me the shovel talk?'

‘I do not know,’ Sarek replied, the tiniest crease in his forehead. ‘I am unaware of that particular human colloquialism. I am simply attempting to determine what you believe your relationship with Spock to be.’

Jim didn’t hesitate. ‘Everything.’

Sarek paused, tilting his head infinitesimally.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s everything,’ Jim repeated, barely having to think about it. Despite knowing that Sarek probably wouldn’t appreciate his blatant emotionalism, he couldn’t quite stop the words from spilling out. ‘He’s _my_ everything. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. And I wouldn’t want to. I assure you, this isn’t a fling for me. This is forever.’

There was another beat of silence, during which Sarek stared severely at him, but Jim didn’t look away. He meant all he’d said, and even if Sarek disapproved, it wouldn’t stop him wanting his future to be with Spock.

‘Good.’ Sarek’s intimidating expression lightened just enough for Jim to notice. ‘My son deserves nothing less.’

‘I know,’ Jim said softly, unable to suppress a small smile. ‘He’s been so great with me since he busted me out of my cell. I don’t know what I’d do without him.’

‘It is good that he is bringing you some measure of peace. Although he has told me nothing specific, Spock informed me that your captors used their psychic abilities to torture you. I am aware of your distance from New Vulcan, but should you wish for the aid of a mind healer, I will make sure there is one at your disposal when you are next in close proximity.’

Jim was shaking his head before Sarek had finished speaking, a panicked lurch to his stomach at the thought of being probed by a stranger. Spock’s answering concern echoed through the bond, but Jim tried to reassure him, shaky though his attempts were.

‘I appreciate your offer, sir,’ he murmured, keeping his voice low so as to hide the tremble within, ‘but I’d rather not.’

‘Very well,’ Sarek conceded, leaning forwards. ‘Know that the offer remains open should you ever change your mind. I am glad that my son recovered you from Euridian… and that you are his t’hy’la.’

Jim blinked in shock, convinced that he was hallucinating at least part of this conversation.

‘You are?’

Sarek inclined his head. ‘Spock speaks very highly of you, and your reputation as a Captain is exemplary. I see no reason why you would not make a suitable mate for my son.’

‘Don’t you want him to come back to New Vulcan and make Vulcan babies?’ Jim mumbled, daring to express his deepest fear.

‘I want my son to do what fulfils him in life. At one time, I did not have quite that view, but circumstances have changed.’

A spasm of pain flitted across Sarek’s eyes, if not his face, and sympathy overwhelmed Jim.

‘Spock’s future is his own. Besides, a relationship with a male does not remove the possibility of children for him.’

‘I know,’ Jim smiled. ‘We’ve talked a little about that.’

‘Good. Grandchildren would be a welcome addition to the family, in time.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Jim said warmly, shifting to sit further upright. With all the dermal regeneration and the pain medication, he felt a lot better; hopefully Bones would release him later on. ‘It’s, ah, it’s good to hear that you approve.’

‘Indeed,’ Sarek agreed. ‘If I can do anything to help with Faeral’s capture, please let me know.’

Jim nodded, grimacing.

‘I will, thanks, but I think we’re going to have to do this on our own. We’ll find him, though. I won’t stop ‘til we do, and neither will Spock.’

‘I would expect nothing less. I must go now, Captain.’

‘It’s Jim,’ Jim insisted, holding up his hand as he had seen Spock do numerous times. ‘Goodbye, Ambassador.’

‘Sarek,’ came the reply. ‘Goodbye, Jim.’

The picture winked out, and Jim felt contentment of a kind he did not recognise. Acceptance from Spock’s family – or, at least, his father – lifted a weight from his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there. With his own family practically non-existent, it felt good to have someone off the ship rooting for him, apart from Sam and Selek, of course.

With a cursory knock, Christine walked in and approached the bed, gesturing for Jim to hold out his arm. She took hold of it when he held it out, gently but firmly, and undid the dressing with practiced hands. Jim pulled a face at the yellow tinge of the scarring underneath, but Christine didn’t seem at all fazed.

‘One more dose of antibiotics and this’ll be gone,’ she said with surety, and Jim flinched as she pulled a hypo from one of the drawers beside his biobed. ‘Oh, don’t be such a baby. Here-’

She jabbed him quickly, and almost painlessly, and Jim stared at her in amazement.

‘What? Leonard is only heavy-handed with you because he’s aggravated at all the trouble you get into.’

‘Ninety-nine per cent of the time, it’s not even my fault,’ Jim protested. ‘Where is Bones anyway?’

‘With Johansson.’

‘Again?’

‘She tripped and fell into a Jeffries tube,’ Christine sighed, wrapping a fresh bandage around his arm. ‘One day that girl is going to get herself killed.’

‘Not on my watch,’ Jim said darkly. ‘Or on Scotty’s for that matter. Bet he was mad. He treats the Engineering ensigns like his children.’

‘Furious. Johansson came in here sniffling. Said he hadn’t shouted, but he’d told her how disappointed he was that she wasn’t keeping herself safe.’

‘That’s such a dad thing to say,’ Jim snorted, watching her tie the end off. ‘D’you think he and Uhura will have kids?’

Christine shook her head, nose wrinkling.

‘Not sure about Scotty, but Nyota doesn’t want them. Says she’ll spoil Demora instead – and any others that come along. Did you want Leonard?’

Taken by surprise at the subject change, Jim took a second to reply.

‘If you wouldn’t mind pointing him my way.’

Nodding, she made her way to the door, but stopped there before she opened it.

‘Just a warning – he’s in a contrary mood this afternoon, so I’d make some concessions if you want out.’

‘Sure. Thanks, Chrissie.’

He’d definitely take her advice; there were few who could predict Bones’ moods better than Christine Chapel. She left, and predictably, within two minutes, Bones was framing the open doorway with a scowl upon his face.

‘No.’

‘Wait, _wait,’_ Jim pleaded, grateful at least that he came fully into the room and shut the doors. ‘How about if I agree to check into Medbay tomorrow morning?’

‘No. What happens if you have a damn seizure overnight?’

‘How about if I wear a biomonitor?’

_‘No,’_ Bones repeated, but his resolve appeared to be waning.

Increasingly desperate, Jim pulled out the big guns.

‘How about I check in here tomorrow morning, _and_ wear a biomonitor overnight? And have Spock with me?’

Bones’ scowl deepened, but he had no arguments left to give.

‘Fine,’ he snarled, keying a code into the machine at Jim’s bedside, and snapping the band it yielded onto Jim’s wrist. ‘But I’m taking you there.’

‘Done,’ Jim said quickly, all too aware of how good a deal he’d got.

He endured Bones’ millionth check-up without complaint, allowing the scanning and the hypos, but he drew the line at the wheelchair Bones wanted to put him in.

‘I can walk,’ he insisted, ignoring his light-headedness as he bent to put on his boots. ‘Slowly, maybe, but I can.’

Bones rolled his eyes as he pushed the chair away, watching him shakily stand with a sharp gaze.

‘Stubborn fool,’ he hissed, pulling him upright by tugging one of Jim’s arms over his shoulders. ‘Why do you have to be so difficult?’

‘I am who I am, Bonesy,’ Jim said happily, deliberately resting the majority of his weight onto him as they left Medbay.

Bones’ reply was nonverbal, but comprehensible nonetheless. As it was the middle of Alpha, there weren’t as many crewmembers on the way to his room as Jim might have expected, but there were enough. Self-conscious though he may have been about his perceived weakness, Jim was inordinately happy to see his crewmembers, greeting each with enthusiasm, and thus the journey to his room took twice as long as usual. Bones grumbled, reminding Jim of his heavy workload, but stopped each time with him anyway, hauling him through the door to his quarters.

‘Can’t believe I dragged your heavy ass all the way here,’ he complained, depositing Jim onto his bed.

‘You’re so strong,’ Jim cooed, batting his eyelashes, and narrowly avoiding a swat to his head. ‘Thought your oath said ‘do no harm’!

‘There are exceptions,’ Bones muttered, helping him beneath the duvet.

‘All because of a teensy bit of flirting. Spock’s stronger, anyhow.’

Bones lifted his eyes to the heavens, replicating Jim a large glass of water.

‘Don’t I know it? Now, I want you to rest. No work, no visitors ’til tomorrow, _no sex.’_

Jim twitched at the thought, caught confusedly between desire and panic. It must have shown in his face, because Bones’ scowl melted away, replaced by something far more sympathetic.

‘Sex is the last thing on my mind right now,’ Jim said quietly, his voice hollow even to his own ears.

Bones sat down on the edge of the bed.

‘Jim, I didn’t see any sign of sexual assault in my examination, but if there’s anything you want to tell me…’

Jim shook his head, staring at a random part of the wall before him.

‘Nothing happened there. Just… just the memories playing over and over again. He made me feel like I was there again. That frightened little boy with no control over his own life, or anybody else’s.’

His voice had softened to a whisper, and he cleared his throat to fix that.

‘Nothing new happened.’

‘But you still experienced significant trauma,’ Bones insisted, argumentative as ever. ‘And damn it, I’ll be here to listen to anything you want to tell me about.’

Jim blinked away the tears that threatened, but obviously not quick enough to fool Bones. As he shut his eyes tightly, he felt warm arms around him, and Bones rested his head atop Jim’s.

‘I’m not ready to talk,’ Jim whispered. ‘Not yet.’

‘All right, darlin’,’ Bones said warmly, letting him go after a final squeeze. ‘Whenever you do, though, I’m here for you.’

‘Thanks,’ Jim murmured, a genuine, if painful, smile on his face. ‘That means a lot.’

‘Anything else you need from me while I’m here?’

‘Don’t think so. Visitors tomorrow?’

Bones nodded, standing slowly.

‘Not all at once, though. One or two at a time for now.’

‘Sure. Thanks for bringing me, Bones,’ Jim said warmly. ‘And for fixing me up. I appreciate it. I really do.’

‘You gonna be okay until Spock gets back?’

Jim nodded, then started when he realised that he hadn’t yet told Spock where he was.

‘I need to comm him to let him know I’m here,’ he said distractedly, searching around for his comm unit.

‘It was destroyed, remember?’ Bones reminded him. ‘Janice has ordered you another, but I’ll tell him in the meantime. Padd’s in your bedside table, but it’s locked apart from for emergencies at the moment.’

Jim gave him a look, to which Bones merely frowned.

‘Yes, genius, I know you could probably hack it, but I’m trusting you not to, okay? Tomorrow you can get back into it, but you’re on strict bedrest for now.’

‘Kay,’ Jim pouted, but obediently lay back, feeling a lot more at ease in his own bed.

‘Don’t sulk, Jim. I’ve got to get back, but I’ll come if you message me. I love you, kid.’

‘Love you too,’ Jim mumbled, unable to suppress a smile at the easy affection. ‘Bye, Bonesy.’

When Bones left, Jim opened his bedside table drawer and eyed the padd pensively. It wouldn’t take him long to bust the lock, and then he could get back to the 5,000 messages he probably had by now. He struggled with indecision for a moment, torn between loyalty and duty, but in the end, he put it back in the drawer. If nothing else, he didn’t want to see the disappointment in the faces of Spock and Bones.

Curling up on his side, Jim cuddled into the blanket he’d hauled with him, inhaling Spock’s warm scent. Just a few more hours, then he would get all his clingy mind and body desired. Comforted by the pulse of affection that flowed through the bond, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the warm cocoon of his bedding. Five minutes of shuteye wouldn’t hurt, especially when there was little else he was allowed to do.

‘T’hy’la.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Jim, wake up. It is time for you to eat.’

Reluctantly, Jim stretched and slowly lifted his heavy eyelids, startled when he saw Spock rather than one of the nurses.

‘Spock! Is it that time already?’

Leaning against the headboard beside him, Spock watched him with tender eyes, nodding in confirmation.

‘Thankfully, it is.’

As Jim reached up, so Spock leant down, in sync as ever as they kissed, two fingers caressing Jim’s while their lips met. It was languid and soft, Spock’s tongue lapping slowly over his lower lip and into his mouth, tracing over his palate in a way that made Jim shiver. Jim pulled away to breathe, combing through Spock’s silky hair with a gentle hand as Spock’s mouth trailed across his jawline and suckled at his pulse point. Kissing was safe. None of _them_ had ever tried to kiss him.

Perhaps sensing his distance, Spock drew away slightly, leaving an inch or two of space between them. Even that felt like too much.

‘Is this uncomfortable for you, k’diwa?’ he asked gently, to which Jim shook his head desperately.

‘No, no,’ he insisted, reaching for him. ‘Need you.’

Spock gathered him in his arms, holding him close.

‘You have me, Jim. You will always have me. I am just trying to identify your boundaries so that I do not accidentally cross them and distress you.’

‘I don’t want you to have to hold back,’ Jim said weakly, self-loathing coiling within.

‘It is not holding back,’ Spock insisted, kissing his forehead. ‘Your desires are my desires. I am Vulcan, James. I do not have the same expectations that a human might. Merely holding you makes me…’

He trailed off, and Jim’s lips twitched.

‘Happy?’

Spock nodded shyly, ducking his head.

‘It makes me happy too.’ Jim’s smile faded slowly, frustrated by his inability to get over something that had happened years ago. ‘I wish I wasn’t like this.’

‘There is nothing wrong with you,’ Spock said strongly, shifting down so that they lay side by side. He reached up to take Jim’s cheek in his hand, stroking over his cheekbone with gentle fingers. ‘It is more than understandable that you are traumatised. Would you like to talk about it?’

Jim hesitated; he knew that talking was good for him, but there were things in his head he’d never spoken about before. Still, he knew Spock wouldn’t judge him. Frozen in indecision, he found himself unable to speak, looking helplessly up at Spock. Spock leant in, and gently kissed his open mouth.

‘Would you prefer to show me instead, t’hy’la?’

Jim shook his head, shifting so that his head lay upon Spock’s chest. If he was going to talk, it was easier not to look at him. Spock wrapped strong arms around him, large hands splayed over his back.

‘It just keeps playing over and over in my head.’ He swallowed, closing his eyes. ‘What Barrett did, I mean. When it happened, I buried it so deep, and then Tarsus kind of overrode it. I hadn’t thought about it in so long…’

He took in a shaky breath, grateful for Spock’s supportive, silent presence.

‘Frank sold me to him,’ he said roughly, his throat aching. ‘He didn’t… he didn’t _rape_ me, but he did a lot of other things that hurt, things that made me cry. He got off on it. I was ten, Spock. I-I didn’t deserve that.’

‘No, you did not,’ Spock agreed, low voice rumbling with something dangerously close to fury. ‘You would not have deserved it at any age. This… creature. Is he still alive?’

Jim shook his head, feeling somewhat flayed open.

‘He died not too long after in a shuttle accident. I should be grateful for that, I guess.’

‘Gratitude does not come into it,’ Spock said tightly. ‘It is fortuitous for him that he died as he did, because I would not be content to leave him unpunished were he still alive.’

‘That’s sweet, honey,’ Jim said softly, stroking over the exposed skin at Spock’s collar. ‘Dirty old bastard died in pain, so at least there’s that. And Frank drank himself to death a few years back.’

Spock tightened his grip, burying his nose in Jim’s hair.

‘I am at once glad and regretful.’

Despite his distress, Jim found himself smiling. He’d never had anyone love him like this before, and although Spock’s protectiveness may have seemed overwhelming to some, he liked how secure it made him feel. He’d seen all sorts of reactions to stories like his, from pity to disgust to complete avoidance, and that had stopped him from telling all but the chosen few. He’d certainly chosen well with Spock. Even without him going into specifics, Spock had managed to soothe him, and hadn't judged him when he knew others would. Jim hadn’t thought he could love him any more than he already did, but he’d somehow found a way. Cuddling into him, he enjoyed the comfortable silence for a long moment, before the growl of his stomach interrupted it. Seized with embarrassment, he felt his face start to burn.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, allowing Spock to roll him carefully onto his back. ‘You know me; I’m a greedy bastard.’

‘I am at fault,’ Spock asserted, smoothing his hair down as he got off the bed. ‘My intention was to feed you immediately, but I became distracted. And you are not at all greedy, t’hy’la. It is natural that you have concern relating to food. What would you like?’

A nasty little voice in Jim’s head told him to binge, but he knew he shouldn’t.

‘What can I have?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Soft foods would be best for now, I was told.’

‘Pasta?’ Jim queried, and Spock nodded, punching a code into the replicator. ‘With cheese sauce, please.’

Spock brought him his meal along with a rice dish for himself, and they ate side by side, Spock’s hand stroking over his as often as it was free. Jim loved how affectionate he was, loved the softness in Spock’s eyes that was reserved just for him, and that sweet little smile he could occasionally coax out. He loved Spock’s absolute focus on him when they were alone, and the endearments that fell from his lips as easily as his rank, and the constant flow of warmth through the bond, like waves lapping against the shore of his mind. He loved him beyond measure, and not for the first time, he was inordinately glad that he was home.

When they were done, Spock cleared their plates away, and helped him into the bathroom for his first proper shower, standing there with his back turned despite Jim’s protests.

‘I’m not going to fall, you know. And if you’re that concerned, I don’t mind you seeing me naked.’

‘It would be wrong to take advantage whilst you are unwell,’ Spock said, a little more stiffly than usual. ‘Besides, my reflexes are such that if you were to fall, it would be unlikely that you would ever hit the floor.’

‘Modesty,’ Jim grinned, washing the shampoo from his hair. ‘I might have to test you at some point.’

‘Do not.’

The remainder of the evening was spent mostly on chess and meditation – on Spock’s part – but eventually even Spock tired. Jim couldn’t help but ogle him as he changed, stripping out of his uniform with grace, and gathering up the black silk pyjamas that Jim so loved. His bare chest was a vision that made Jim’s stomach flip, but he looked guiltily away when Spock was down to his underwear, a look which Spock caught.

‘I do not mind you watching me,’ Spock said softly, taking hold of the waistband of his boxers. ‘I am yours.’

Jim felt somewhat voyeuristic, but he could no more look away than tell Spock he hated him as the underwear came off, exposing the length of his cock. Jim felt his breathing pick up as he estimated the size of it, feeling a thrill of arousal, which dampened almost as soon as it had surfaced. Despite knowing that Spock - and more specifically, sex with Spock - was safe, something still held him back. Spock didn’t comment on the mixed emotions he likely felt through the bond, merely dressed himself and approached the bed, getting in beside Jim. It was all so wonderfully domestic, Jim got butterflies in his stomach. He pressed himself against Spock’s side, snuggling into the arm that came around him as Spock reached for a padd.

‘Ooh, is that the latest report from your Science kids?’

‘You are not supposed to be signing off reports,’ Spock reminded him, scrolling through it.

‘I’m not finalising them, am I?’ Jim asked innocently. ‘Just reading yours.’

There was an almost inaudible sigh which made Jim grin, but Spock tilted the screen ever so slightly towards him, so that they could read it together. A second after Jim’s first yawn, however, Spock switched it off.

‘Hey, I was up to a good bit!’

‘You will not take it in at this hour,’ Spock insisted, calling the lights down to the dimness that Jim preferred over total darkness. ‘Besides, you should be resting.’

‘Resting, schmesting, that’s what I’ve done all day,’ Jim complained, a little petulantly.

Spock helped him into a comfortable position on his side, then spooned up behind him, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck.

‘You have been through an ordeal that many would struggle to survive. You have been back less than two days; please, humour me by listening to your body. It is very important to me that you remain safe and healthy.’

Jim’s heart squeezed, and he twisted in his Spock’s arms to kiss him gently, trailing a Vulcan kiss down his arm before snuggling back into him.

‘I’ll try for you,’ he breathed, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. ‘I love you, baby.’

‘Taluhk nash-veh k’dular, ashaya. Sleep now.’

Feeling safe and protected in his arms, Jim couldn’t help but obey.

_It was dark, so dark, and there were hands on him. Rough hands, in places he didn’t want to be touched, unrelenting in their movements. There was a monster lying above him. Jim struggled in the monster’s grip, but he was just a boy, and the monster was a man, and his struggles were in vain. Vicious words were panted into his ear, cruel and true, and in the terrible, oppressive darkness, he screamed._

‘Jim!’

He awoke with a cry still tearing from his throat, nearly colliding with Spock, who was hovering over him on all fours, eyes wide with distress. Shuddering, Jim allowed Spock to pull him into his lap, collapsing blindly against his chest as strong arms came around him. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he became consumed by keeping them at bay, unable to speak even as Bones’ voice came squalling from Spock’s communicator.

‘Spock, what the hell’s goin’ on?’ he growled, voice thick with sleep. ‘His vitals just went wild!’

‘It was a nightmare, Doctor,’ came Spock’s soft reply, as he lay his cheek against Jim’s crown.

‘Y’all right, Jimmy?’

‘Yeah,’ Jim choked, clutching desperately at Spock’s pyjama shirt. ‘Don’t worry, Bones. Spock’s here.’

He wasn’t all right, and they both probably knew it, but he wouldn’t drag Bones out of bed for this. It was bad enough that he’d woken Spock.

‘Comm me if you need anything,’ Bones said gruffly. ‘Either of you.’

‘We will,’ Spock agreed, shutting the comm off before Jim could attempt to say anything. Jim was glad. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his voice steady. With Jim still in his lap, Spock leant back slightly to study his face, eyes so dark with worry that Jim could barely meet them. He gently kissed the rise of Jim’s cheek, causing a few tears to escape from his brimming eyes, then smoothed his thumb over the wetness beneath them.

‘Crying is not a shameful thing, t’hy’la,’ Spock murmured, smoothing back his tousled hair. ‘If that is what you need, it is important.’

‘I don’t-’ Jim began, voice cracking. He attempted to gather himself, fingering the silky material of Spock’s sleeve, but even blinking reminded him of the oppressive darkness of his memory. ‘Spock, before when you mentioned-’

No. He couldn’t ask Spock to bear witness to that. What the hell was he thinking?

‘Never mind,’ he said weakly, but Spock, as usual, was more attuned to him than anyone.

‘You speak of a meld.’

‘Forget it,’ Jim muttered, flushing darkly. ‘You shouldn’t have to see that. You know what I’m like: open mouth, insert foot.’

Spock pressed a soft, chaste kiss against his lips, projecting a sense of calm.

‘I dislike it when you insult yourself,’ he admonished, cupping Jim’s cheek. Slender fingers stroked gently over his meld points, sparking sensation in Jim. ‘You are far more intelligent and accomplished than you believe. And while I am aware that it is certainly an unpleasant memory, I believe a meld will be healing for you.’

Still clutching Spock’s sleeve, Jim fell silent in a long moment of indecision. He still felt selfish, but maybe if he only showed Spock parts of the memory, he wouldn’t be too disturbed. Before he could analyse it too much, he nodded quickly, closing his eyes against the brush of Spock’s fingers over his face.

‘I would like your verbal consent, ashaya.’

‘Yes,’ Jim breathed, opening his eyes to see a love in Spock’s own that made his heart flutter. ‘Do it.’

He steeled himself to end up back in his own smaller body, suffering underneath Barrett and his perverted lust, but he didn’t. Instead, he and Spock were stood together in the corner of the room as little Jim came shuffling reluctantly in, head down as Barrett sat waiting for him. Jim shuddered in disgust, turning away as he braced himself for what was to come, but then he heard a feral snarl that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He looked up at Spock to find his teeth bared, and shock left him frozen as Spock rushed towards Barrett with predatory intent, a hand closing around his throat. As Spock’s hand squeezed tight, Barrett’s eyes widened, then he vanished into thin air, ghost-like. While Jim gaped, Spock scooped up the frightened little boy and held him close, carrying him over towards Jim. Despite knowing that this was a younger version of himself, not their child, Jim was overwhelmed with compassion, and as the little boy stared, wide-eyed, Jim reached out to touch his cheek. At the contact, there was a flash of light that spread and brightened until with a rush of motion and emotion, the meld ended.

Barely a second elapsed before Jim was surging forward and kissing Spock deeply, tears running freely down his face as he slid his hand into Spock’s soft hair. That memory had tormented him for so long, and even though he knew it wasn’t real, seeing Spock defend him against one of the monsters that haunted his dreams was overwhelming. Spock held him tightly, responding with enthusiasm, and it was only when Jim was breathless that he pulled away, leaning his forehead against Spock’s collarbone. The surge of energy he’d experienced after the meld was gone, and he now felt drained and shaky, leaning heavily against Spock.

‘Here, las’hark,’ Spock said softly, drawing him back down onto the bed and covering them with the duvet.

Jim allowed himself to be coddled, just a little. He went willingly into Spock’s arms, sighing in pleasure as he was brought into a warm embrace, cradled against Spock’s chest. Exhaustion had returned with a vengeance, but there was a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

‘No one’s ever cared as much as you,’ he whispered, a lump in his throat making his voice wobble. Spock squeezed him gently, a hand smoothing over his back. ‘Thank you, Spock. I love you, sweetheart.’

‘And I you,’ Spock murmured, accepting the kiss that Jim brushed over his lips. ‘Immeasurably so. Do you think you might be able to sleep better now?’

‘I hope so,’ Jim sighed, a heaviness settling into his limbs as he made himself comfortable upon the cool silk that covered Spock’s chest.

There were no more words spoken between them, but Jim didn’t need any. The bond pulsed like a heartbeat with affection and light, and with Spock having driven away the monsters for that night at least, he found himself, for once, resting peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think? Please do drop a comment if you can – it lets me know that people are reading and enjoying, rather than reading and going ehhh :)
> 
> Like I said in the chapter notes, I do think that this chapter is important in the scheme of things, because it really kicks off the healing process for Jim, and that's part of why it's far longer than usual. 
> 
> But yeah, hope you all liked it, and I'm over [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-of-his-soul) on tumblr if anyone wants to look at my blog. The link is to my 'captain of his soul' tag, which contains fic updates, etc. Have a good weekend, everyone!


	16. The Fell Clutch Of Circumstance

Not for the first time that week, when Spock was woken by his internal chronometer, he did not wish to heed its call. He was still somewhat in disbelief that Jim was back on the Enterprise, let alone asleep in his arms, and yet upon waking and finding that the case, he was reluctant to leave. Jim was soft and warm, his breath whistling from his nose as he slept soundly, and Spock could not take his eyes off him. The events of the night before had disturbed them both – Spock, in seeing the horrors perpetrated against his t’hy’la as a child, and Jim, in reliving them – but Spock hoped that his actions had ameliorated Jim’s torment. His intentions had been to interfere with a version of the memory in order to soothe Jim, but he had not anticipated the sheer fury he had experienced upon witnessing that _kre’nath_ laying hands upon a child. He had been wild with it, and he was fortunate that the violence of his reaction had not frightened Jim.

Despite the traumatic events of the night before, Jim appeared not to be stirring, and for that, Spock was grateful. His beloved needed all the rest he could get. Spock, however, was required to be on the Bridge in one point eight five hours, and before that, needed to meditate. Regretfully, he began to disentangle himself from Jim, soothing his ensuing whimper with a gentle kiss upon a meld point, willing him to sleep on. He made certain that Jim was covered with the duvet before sinking cross-legged to the floor beside the bed, centring himself. He had not meditated with another person in the room since early childhood, but he did not wish to leave Jim, and was sure that Jim would panic if he were to wake alone. Reaching equilibrium – a far simpler task now that Jim had returned – he separated out the fierce emotions of the past few days, and began to process them. He emerged from his meditative state feeling a great deal lighter than before, though with only nought point seven eight hours before the beginning of Alpha shift. Time to wake Jim.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Spock reached out to stroke his tousled hair back from his face, amused by the way his nose twitched. Leaning down, he brushed a few whisper-soft kisses against Jim’s cheek and jaw, nuzzling into the space beneath it. Jim began slowly to stir, a soft groan escaping him as he shifted and stretched, arching into the hand that smoothed over his chest and stomach. Iridescent eyes half-opened, and Jim’s lips curved into a sleepy smile when he saw Spock, reaching up to cup the back of his neck.

‘Hey, sweetheart,’ he said hoarsely, the rasp in his voice sending an unexpected shock of arousal through Spock. He thought he had concealed it well enough from Jim, but a flicker of unease over his t’hy’la’s face, followed by an unconvincing leer, told him he had not. ‘Guess someone’s happy to see me.’

‘I am always happy to see you, ha’su,’ Spock replied with honesty, ‘but you do not need to pretend for me. I am content to wait, and I love you regardless of whether you are ever ready for sexual activity.’

Jim’s face crumpled, his expression broken enough that Spock’s chest ached, but he did not cry. Spock reached for him nonetheless, drawing him into the circle of his arms, and holding him firmly.

‘There is no shame in this, Jim. Your desires are mine, always.’

He held Jim’s consciousness in the bond as he held his physical body, attempting to reassure him of his absolute devotion. While he may have felt arousal, it was not a requirement of their relationship to have intercourse. He was Vulcan; if necessary, he could suppress arousal continuously.

‘Thank you,’ Jim breathed into his neck, the spark of self-loathing Spock had caught having calmed significantly. ‘I love you too.’

He pulled himself away enough that he could reach Spock’s lips, and kissed him tenderly, eyelashes tickling Spock’s cheek. Spock let him guide the kiss, returning it slowly, intoxicated by his sweet smell and the heat of his skin, and when he pulled back, it was only enough to let Jim breathe. Sliding a hand under the hem of Spock’s pyjama shirt, Jim stroked his hand over the skin beneath, making him shiver. Spock, in turn, pressed his nose into the soft hair at Jim’s crown, waiting silently for him to speak further.

‘How long ’til you’ve got to be on the Bridge?’

The question was quiet, reluctant, but Spock would answer it nonetheless. He felt a similar reluctance to leave Jim’s side.

‘Nought point six nine hours.’

Jim sighed, his displeasure clear both in his expression and through the bond. Still, despite their will to be with one another, Spock knew that Jim was nothing if not dedicated to the ship and all aboard her.

‘I wish it wasn’t so soon,’ he admitted, tilting his head up to look Spock in the eye. ‘Will you help me into the shower before you go?’

‘I will,’ Spock said easily, standing and offering him an arm. His own ablutions could wait, though he suspected that breakfast might no longer be a possibility.

‘Would you come in with me?’

Spock’s breath caught. He could feel the uncertainty in Jim, though he attributed it to nerves surrounding his forwardness. There was a moment of indecision; he did not wish to take advantage in any way, but Jim clearly craved intimacy, and if he was to be honest with himself, so did Spock. To care for his telsu, to hold his naked body against him even without sexual intent would certainly be a heady experience. Jim’s tremulous smile was beginning to dim in correlation with the length of his silence, and so Spock hastened to reassure him.

‘If that is what you wish, taluhk-veh, I would be glad to.’

Jim’s smile brightened, and he allowed Spock to help him down from the bed, his body, warm from sleep, pressing up against Spock’s side. Spock suspected that Jim had asked for help more out of a need for emotional security than physical aid. There remained a little muscle weakness still, as evidenced by the slight tremble in Jim’s legs as they approached the fresher, but it was nothing that would prevent him from independent movement if necessary. It was of no consequence. Spock enjoyed being of help to Jim, in whatever capacity he was required.

‘I’ll be glad to take this thing off,’ Jim muttered, tugging at the hem of his hospital gown with one hand, and unravelling his bandage with the other.

‘I am sure you will,’ Spock replied, leading him into the bathroom. He turned away so that Jim could urinate with a modicum of privacy, then switched on the shower – water, for Jim’s sake – and began to disrobe. He did not hide his body, unashamed of his nakedness in front of the man with whom he intended to spend the rest of his life. He was conscious of Jim’s intermittent gaze, and the hesitancy with which he was tugging at his own clothes.

‘As I said last night, you are welcome to look at me,’ he reminded Jim gently, himself now fully nude. ‘Have you changed your mind about showering together?’

Jim shook his head, flushing.

‘No, I-I want to.’

He began to pull the hospital gown over his head, and Spock reached over to help him when he got caught in the fabric, throwing the gown in the laundry chute along with his own nightwear. He attempted not to let his own gaze linger, conscious of Jim’s hesitancy to disrobe, but Jim’s shyness seemed to be dissipating.

‘I don’t mind you looking at me either,’ he said boldly, though he still fidgeted a little as Spock’s eyes travelled over him.

Spock had seen him partially naked before, and as such, already knew of his impressive musculature and aesthetic appeal. However, being able to see him entirely unclothed and with Jim’s permission to do so, he felt new appreciation for his t’hy’la’s form. Jim’s chest was broad and thick with muscle, as were his biceps, which Spock had often found his gaze illogically drawn towards. Jim’s flat stomach and narrow hips tapered down towards strong thighs, between which lay a thick penis which Spock had only ever seen through Jim’s tight trousers. Mouth dry, he traced his eyes over his body, much as he had seen Jim do to his own last night, and felt his stomach clench in appreciation.

‘You are beautiful,’ he said reverently, reaching for Jim’s hand as he blushed.

_‘You_ are,’ Jim argued softly, allowing Spock to lead him into the shower. ‘I’ve never met anyone as stunning as you.’

Spock’s lips twitched into a tiny smile as he activated the shower, tilting his head beneath the spray.

‘We shall have to agree to disagree, ashaya. I believe the same.’

Jim’s smile was far wider than his own as he leant up and kissed Spock sweetly, their bodies coming into contact under the water in a way that made Spock shiver. He pulled Jim closer, until they were pressed intimately together, and relished the sensation of his beloved’s naked skin against his own. He could feel Jim’s hands running up his back, bringing him into an embrace, and he began to reciprocate, tentatively touching and exploring warm, wet skin. Their lips parted, and Spock’s hands stilled as Jim reached for the shampoo, beckoning for him to bend down.

‘Close your eyes.’

Spock complied, bowing his head to allow Jim to work the shampoo into his hair, his lips parting in pleasure as Jim gently massaged and tugged at it. Once Jim had thoroughly worked the shampoo into a lather, Spock stepped back to rinse himself off, then squeezed a blob of shampoo into his hand. He was enraptured by Jim’s pliancy as he washed his hair, and the way he shivered as Spock scraped his nails against his scalp. Spock had barely washed the suds out when Jim began running soap-slick hands over his chest and around to his back, cleaning him tenderly and thoroughly. Spock closed his eyes, the intimacy of being washed by his t’hy’la overwhelming him.

‘Give me your hand, t’hy’la.’

Spock held it out, palm up, and his eyes opened in shock as Jim used it as a support to bend down and wash his legs and feet.

‘Jim, are you-’

‘I’m fine, love,’ Jim insisted, lips twitching. ‘Don’t get too excited though.’

He leant on Spock once more to stand, then with an uncertain look up at him, gently took hold of his penis. Though he knew that Jim’s intentions were not sexual, Spock nevertheless found himself viciously suppressing rising arousal as Jim cleaned him swiftly, his touch not lingering. The feedback from the bond remained uneasy when he had finished, so Spock chose not to comment, simply pressing a soft kiss against his lips before working the soap into a lather. He took careful consideration not to aggravate the lingering abrasions on Jim’s back, or the healing wound on his arm, and before he attempted to touch Jim between his legs, he made certain to ask for permission.

Afterwards, they leant together under the water, and while Spock was blissful in the warmth of Jim’s embrace, he was also irritatingly conscious of the time. Reluctantly, he pressed a kiss to Jim’s forehead and stepped out of the shower, acquiring two towels from the rail by the sink. He passed one to Jim and quickly dried himself off, opening the door to his own, unused, quarters.

‘What would you like for breakfast?’ he called, putting together a fresh uniform.

‘Uhh, pancakes?’

Taking hold of Jim’s hand to lead him back through into his quarters, Spock noted that he still seemed a little coltish, but he asked for no further support. Spock quickly changed, and whilst Jim was still doing so, procured some pancakes and blueberries for Jim, and a selection of fruit for himself.

‘Thanks, babe,’ Jim said warmly, fatigue still clear in the lines around his eyes. He climbed back onto the bed with visible stiffness, taking the plate from Spock with a grateful smile. ‘Have you spoken to Eana yet?’

‘Not since the conversation I informed you about in Medbay. I will be contacting her today, though.’

Jim nodded distantly, and Spock could feel the bond darkening, storm clouds beginning to roll in on Jim’s side of their connection.

‘I assume that means _he_ still hasn’t been found.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Spock ground out, unable to entirely contain his ire toward Faeral. ‘Eana is making great efforts, and we are doing all we can on the Bridge, but we have thus far been unsuccessful.’

‘He murdered his cousin, you know,’ Jim said through a mouthful of pancake, making Spock blink. ‘Yeah. Stabbed him in the back, literally, like the coward he is.’

‘An… interesting family dynamic.’

Jim snorted humourlessly, holding a hand out.

‘You might wanna tell her, seeing as I’m still _banned_ from duty. Not from my padd today, though.’

He beckoned with his fingers, and Spock pulled the padd from his bedside drawer, making to undo the lock upon it.

‘Leave it,’ Jim suggested, taking it from him. ‘It’ll give me something to do for an hour or two.’

Spock nodded regretfully, picking at his breakfast.

‘I do not wish to leave you.’

‘Me neither, sweetheart,’ Jim said softly, skimming a finger up Spock’s ear. He gently played with the tip between finger and thumb, making Spock shudder. ‘I’ll see you at lunch, though, yeah?’

‘Of course,’ Spock promised, pushing away his plate in favour of taking Jim’s face between his hands. Naturally, Jim had already finished his breakfast, so Spock did not feel guilt when he kissed Jim’s syrup-sweet lips, slow and gentle in his exploration of Jim’s mouth. Jim made a fragile sound of pleasure when Spock licked into the space between his parted lips, tasting the blueberry and maple therein, the hand still playing with the point of his ear trembling infinitesimally. Despite the time constraints upon him, Spock let the kiss linger until Jim drew away, breath laboured. Once again, he could not help but marvel at how beautiful Jim truly was, especially like this, with bright eyes and reddened lips, expression softened with affection.

Sighing regretfully, Spock stood, catching Jim eyeing the remaining fruit on his plate as he did so.

‘Are you still hungry, t’hy’la?’

Jim flushed, averting his gaze.

‘Maybe a little.’

Spock pushed his plate towards him, disposing of Jim’s own, far cleaner plate afterwards. He couldn’t resist dropping a chaste kiss upon his lips, running a hand through his soft hair.

‘Do not feel obligated to eat all of it,’ Spock murmured as he pulled away. ‘It will not go to waste.’

‘I know,’ Jim said quietly, face darkening with shame.

Spock did his best to alleviate the feeling, attempting to comfort him with his own boundless love, and was relieved when the blanket of shame lifted, just a little. Jim was still troubled, he knew, but as much as he wished to stay, he knew he could not. It was his duty to the ship to take command in Jim’s absence… and it was his duty to Jim to do all he could to find Faeral. He hoped that his capture, at least in part, would ease Jim’s torment.

Reaching out with two fingers, he was pleased when Jim returned the kiss, and even more so when he began eating again. Eight days of near-starvation had taken its toll, and Spock was keen for him to regain the weight he had lost.

‘Bye, hon,’ Jim said, voice only slightly muffled by the segment of satsuma he had just swallowed. ‘Tell the others I can have visitors today, ’kay? I mean, they’re not obligated to see me, but I want them to know just in case.’

‘I have been asked multiple times if you are allowed visitors,’ Spock told him softly, pleased by the little smile and burst of joy that elicited. ‘I am sure that you will be inundated.’

‘Hopefully,’ Jim said brightly, sitting back against the pillows. ‘Now, don’t be late, Commander.’

With a tiny smile reserved only for Jim, Spock leant down and kissed him deeply, marvelling in the dazed look in Jim’s eyes when he pulled back.

‘I am certain that my Captain will forgive me.’

‘You bet your sweet ass I will,’ Jim purred, sending blood rushing to Spock’s cheeks. ‘Later, babe.’

‘‘Later’, ashayam.’

The last thing Spock heard as he exited their quarters was Jim’s roar of laughter, echoing out into the corridor. He had not realised how much he had missed it.

‘Spock?’

He turned, finding Nyota leaning against the wall across from their quarters, settled, as if she had been there for a while.

‘Have you got five minutes?’

‘Approximately eight,’ Spock informed her, watching the tension in her face dissipate as she smiled.

‘Great. I wouldn’t mind a quick talk in private.’

‘The Captain’s Ready Room should be unoccupied,’ Spock replied, leading her towards the turbolift. ‘We can talk in there.’

He allowed her to step in first, nodding sharply at Ensign Johansson, who looked mildly shell-shocked by his presence.

‘How is he?’

Spock let his eyes dart in Johansson’s direction before he replied.

‘The Captain is functional. He remains off-duty for the remainder of the week, though he is permitted to have visitors from today.’

‘Good,’ Nyota replied, giving him a meaningful look that signified she had seen his. ‘I’ll try and see him today, but I expect everyone and their dog will be trying to do the same thing.’

‘That is likely,’ Spock muttered, glad that Jim was so loved, but concerned that too many visitors would leave him fatigued. ‘I will attempt to limit numbers to a certain extent.’

Nyota led them out when the lift came to a stop, calling ‘Bye, Elin!’ behind her as she walked with him to the Ready Room. She was silent until the doors closed, then sat on the edge of the table, fixing Spock with a penetrative stare.

‘How is he really?’

Spock hesitated, but not out of a desire for fabrication. It was a difficult question to answer even without invading Jim’s privacy, considering his fluctuations in mood.

‘Troubled,’ he said eventually, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘At times, contented; at others, tormented. Even now, I can feel his conflict. He loves so fiercely, and yet he is burdened by the fears of his younger self. He strongly desires my presence, but I find that my desires match his, particularly as the bond settles.’

There was a quiet exclamation, and when he looked up, he found Nyota smiling softly, her eyes bright.

‘You’ve bonded?’ she breathed, her clear happiness for them filling Spock with warmth.

‘We were already bonded. Jim and I, we are t’hy’la, Nyota. That is why I reacted so catastrophically on that day after the briefing. That is how I found him. I fully reinstated the bond when I freed him in Pirilia.’

‘A t’hy’la bond?’ Wide-eyed, she slumped further against the table. ‘Wow. There are so few documented cases.’

Spock could not help but feel an illogical sense of pride at her wonder. Though he had done nothing to deserve it, theirs was a rare and revered bond, and he took a moment to imagine what his former peers would think of him, the half-breed, finding his t’hy’la.

‘I am aware that it is special,’ he said softly. _‘Jim_ is special. In time, I intend to ask him to bond with me fully.’

‘I’m glad you’re happy, Spock, and I hope that when the time comes, you’ll both let me help with arrangements. But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.’

She sighed, shifting until she was sat with one leg beneath her, the other swinging freely. Her expression was twisted with what appeared to be shame, her gaze lowered.

‘I told Monty what I did. You know, after the briefing.’

Her eyes flicked up to Spock, who nodded, disturbed by the memory of Jim’s devastation.

‘He’s really disappointed in me,’ she said hoarsely, blinking back tears, ‘and rightfully so. He didn’t say this, but I’ve since realised – Spock, you have the right to report me for assault, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did.’

‘No,’ Spock replied firmly, stepping closer. ‘Nyota, while your actions were thoughtless and ill-advised, I do not believe that your motivation was malicious. I will not report you.’                              

‘Still, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to approach you while Jim was still missing, because I know you had enough to deal with. But what I did was wrong, _especially_ without warning you.’

Spock’s head dipped in acknowledgment. He did not wish to compound her guilt, but he would not provide her with platitudes either.

‘The impact on myself was minimal, but Jim was far more affected.’

‘I know,’ she said shakily, making to stand. ‘I have an apology to make to him as well. I never meant to upset him, but what’s done is done, I guess. Kaiidth. Is he allowed visitors all week?’

‘Unless Doctor McCoy puts a stop to it,’ Spock replied, reaching out to the door release as she approached him. ‘Or I see him becoming fatigued.’

‘I’ll probably wait to see him then. I don’t want him to be overwhelmed with people, and I’d rather apologise in private. Thanks for listening, Spock.’

‘You are welcome.’

Despite his diversion, Spock arrived at the Bridge nought point seven minutes before his shift began, dismissing the hooded-eyed Lieutenant who had taken the conn for the night. Chekov turned to him eagerly, Sulu following suit, but before either could speak, Spock addressed the entire Bridge.

‘The Captain is able to receive visitors from today, but I ask that you discuss amongst yourselves in what order you will go in order to limit numbers. Too many will not only exhaust him, but invoke the wrath of Doctor McCoy.’

‘A fate worse than death,’ he heard Sulu breathe, and the ensuing choked-off laugh from Chekov.

‘That being said, I am sure he will appreciate the company,’ Spock continued, his attention caught by Ensign Ferreira, who was busy drawing up terrain maps. ‘Ensign, I presume there are no updates regarding Faeral’s location?’

‘Unfortunately not,’ she muttered, squinting at the stream of data generated by the night’s scan. ‘We’re still looking, but scanning Pirilia and the majority of the surrounding area in a hundred-mile radius has come up with nothing.’

Not for the first time, Spock bitterly regretted allowing him to get away. While Jim’s recovery did not hinge on Faeral’s capture, it would certainly bolster him, and on a far more primal level, the feral creature in Spock’s mind demanded retribution for the harm done to his mate.

‘Prime Minister Eana is requesting an audience with you,’ Lieutenant Hawkins announced, before Spock could reply to Ferreira. ‘She wanted me to warn you that it’s not a positive update, though.’

Huffing a slightly harder breath than usual out through his nose, Spock nodded and stood from Jim’s chair.

‘Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn.’

‘Aye, Commander.’

He took the call in the Ready Room he had just vacated, noting with dismay Eana’s haggard appearance, her expression set grimly.

‘Commander,’ she greeted, her teeth baring briefly as she spoke. ‘I’m afraid there’s bad news. A raid was conducted at dawn on a small encampment we suspected to contain Faeral and the remainder of his supporters. There was a confrontation. We managed to take in one of his men, but a number of my people were killed, and others were…’

She closed her eyes for a beat, and they were dull when she reopened them.

‘Some have been left with no higher brain functions. None of those left alive ever saw Faeral.’

Bitter disappointment made Spock’s stomach clench, and he tried not to let it filter through to Jim, who had fallen back asleep judging by the motions of the bond.

‘I grieve with thee,’ he murmured, and Eana dipped her head, her expression grave.

‘I would expect that your scans have yielded nothing?’

‘Correct,’ Spock said tightly, controls wavering from the emotional tumult of the last few days. ‘It appears that Faeral is using technology to conceal himself from us.’

Eana’s gills flared as she nodded, eyes sharp.

‘There is the capability, with expensive hardware, to manipulate a Euridian’s DNA sequence. The technology is, of course, illegal, and thus used almost exclusively by criminal networks.’

‘Suitably so,’ Spock muttered, not bothering to hide his disdain. ‘You may call upon us for support whenever you wish. We have been granted an indeterminate length of orbit in order to aid you in Faeral’s capture, and the Security team – and, indeed, the entire crew – are keen to see him apprehended. The Captain, in particular.’

At the mention of him, Eana’s expression softened; whether with care or with guilt, Spock could not discern.

‘How is he?’

‘Recovering,’ Spock said softly, feeling the lulling calm of Jim’s dreams with gratitude. ‘If considered well enough, he will be back on duty next week.’

‘Please send my regards to him. And thank you for the offer, Commander – I will certainly let you know if there is anything you can do to help.’

‘I appreciate it,’ Spock replied, ending the call with a ta’al and a clipped farewell. He hoped sincerely that Eana would involve the Enterprise more, now that she had been informed of their stay. Not only were the crew already beginning to get restless in their current inaction, but Spock could not help but suspect that if they lingered too long, Command would intervene. Being ordered away without finding Faeral would not only abandon a dangerous criminal in amongst innocent people, but it would greatly impact Jim’s confidence, and for Spock, his wellbeing surpassed all else in importance.

Chekov announced his return to the Bridge as enthusiastically as usual, but his attention was caught immediately by Ferreira, whose maps were not those of before. She met his eyes as he approached, shifting sideways so he could see.

‘Seeing as we’re having no luck with DNA-locating, I thought I’d try searching for heat signatures.’

‘How will you know where to search?’ Spock asked, zooming in on the blue-white hub of activity in Eana’s Parliament building. ‘His heat signature will not identify him.’

Ferreira shrugged.

‘I don’t necessarily. But we do know that he’s likely to be away from the general population, in a similar environment to the one in which he was found before. I can’t imagine there being too many people living in that kind of terrain. And yeah, we could accidentally drop in on a mountain hermit or something, but I’d rather try this than sit twiddling my thumbs while he hurts more people.’

The passion in her voice dragged Spock’s eyebrow up his forehead, and Ferreira blushed violently, turning back to the maps.

‘I just don’t like that he hurt the Captain, that’s all.’

‘That makes two of us,’ Spock said, under his breath. ‘I appreciate your initiative, Ensign. Please let me know if you find anything worth noting.’

‘I will, sir,’ she smiled, returning to her task with enthusiasm.

Once again pleased by the crew’s loyalty to Jim, Spock took a seat in the Captain’s chair, drawing out his padd to duplicate Ferreira’s maps. He would not sit idly by whilst his teslu suffered because of this creature’s freedom. However, when he opened the appropriate program, a message popped up and obscured his view.

**Hey! A little birdie told me that you spoke to Eana this morning.**

_T’hy’la._ Spock’s chest grew warm at the evidence that Jim was awake and well, though the drowsy stirring of the bond suggested that he wasn’t quite alert yet.

Good morning, ashaya. My conversation with Eana has only recently ended; how did you know that we were conversing?

**I know everything, sweetie :)**

Spock frowned, and typed back:

Jim, I do not understand the meaning of ‘semi-colon, bracket’.

There was a flutter of amusement through the bond, and it was only a few seconds later that Jim replied.

**It’s a smiley face, babe. Turn it sideways.**

Spock did so, and the rudimentary face appeared. Fascinating.

I see. :).

The flutter of amusement became a burst as explosive as Spock imagined Jim’s laughter to be, and he was pleased that he had lifted his beloved’s melancholy.

**I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be using smileys! What did Eana say?**

At this, Spock found himself hesitating. He would not lie to Jim, but he did not wish to upset him either.

**Don’t sugarcoat it,** came the reply before Spock could articulate himself. **I know it’s bad.**

There was a raid, but Faeral was not retrieved. A number of Eana’s group were killed, and others mentally incapacitated.

There was a long pause as Spock waited anxiously for a reply, the bond roiling with mixed emotion.

**Why didn’t she ask us for help?**

I do not know, Spock replied, his heart returning to a normal rhythm. I have informed her of our orders, and assured her that she may call upon us whenever she is in need. I believe she will take that advice. In the meantime, Ensign Ferreira is scanning for heat signatures in the Pirilian Mountains.

**Clever. Your Science ducklings never fail to impress me.**

Spock’s eyebrow arched.

Ducklings, sir?

**Yeah, you know. They follow you around like imprinted ducklings. Got to go, hon, Scotty’s here! But tell Ferreira well done from me!**

I will, t’hy’la.

Although he had already been informed that Jim was in company, Spock could not help feeling somewhat disappointed when there were no more forthcoming messages.

‘Ensign,’ he called, to gain Ferreira’s attention. ‘The Captain appreciates your ingenuity.’

She flushed darker than before, a smile spreading across her face.

‘It’s nice to hear that, sir.’

She returned to her work diligently, and not for the first time, Spock felt great pride in the crew. He was certain that if anyone could find Faeral, it was those in his department who worked over and above their hours to provide solutions to their problems, and the Security team, whose dedication to their Captain was clear.

Foreseeing hours of simultaneous agitation and boredom if he were to remain on the Bridge, Spock handed over the conn to Lieutenant Sulu, and made for Laboratory Three. Although he would not admit it, its layout and atmosphere made it his favourite, and today, as so often, it was empty. Spock set himself up on a desk in the centre of the room, pulling up the various terrain maps that had been saved from before, still marked with the potential locations of Jim’s cell. With the promise of seeing Jim in a few short hours, he concentrated solely on isolating those areas which seemed possible to conceal a small group of bandits, rage beginning to simmer away below the façade of professionalism. This monster deserved far more than imprisonment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> Can't believe I managed to get this update done in a fortnight! I'll try my best with the next, but it could stretch to three weeks. I'm over [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, and writing/timing updates are always under the 'captain of his soul' tag. I hope everyone has a good weekend :)


	17. A Faith That Can Move Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy K/S day everyone :)

Ungrateful though it may have seemed, when the intercom buzzed for what must have been the tenth time that day, Jim found it difficult to repress a groan of frustration. It had only been a few minutes since Scotty had left, along with a suspiciously strong-smelling liquid that he had claimed to be ‘medicinal’, which Jim had warily refused. In the three days since Bones had relented and allowed him to have visitors, Jim estimated that approximately an eighth of his crew had turned up at his door, which, considering the four hundred and twenty three people aboard, was pretty impressive. Even Cupcake had arrived yesterday, arms laden with cards and well-wishing gifts, his gentle personality entirely at odds with the angry bull Jim had first encountered in an Iowa dive bar. He was humbled by his crew’s support, and thankful for all they had done for him, but eventually, even the extrovert supreme got sick of putting on a show, especially when he didn’t always feel like smiling.

‘Come in!’ he called, forcing a grimace, but that turned into a genuine smile when he saw who came through the door. ‘Hey Jacob, how are you doing?’

‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ Crusher smiled, but Jim’s expression froze when he noticed a splint on two of his fingers. ‘Oh, oh no. It’s not-’

‘Jacob.’

‘No, it was me, I swear!’ he insisted, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the bed, from which Jim was beginning to fight his way out. ‘I had an accident – crushed them, strangely enough.’

His words were earnest, but he let out a nervous little laugh that left Jim not entirely convinced by his bravado.

‘Jacob, if you need help…’

Crusher shook his head, his face softening.

‘I appreciate it, Captain, I really do, but this was just me. I don’t get trouble like that anymore. If people don’t like me, they just ignore me, which is fine. But I promise, nobody hurt me. I’m just really, really clumsy.’

Jim watched him with narrowed eyes for a long moment after he finished speaking, but then finally accepted the lack of deceit in his expression.

‘Okay,’ he huffed, patting the bed. ‘I just worry about you all, you know that.’

‘Yeah, you’re like the ship’s dad,’ Jacob said, then blushed brightly, to Jim’s great amusement.

‘Oh, yeah?’ he grinned, somewhat touched by his assessment. ‘That’s cute. Who’s the mom, then?’

Crusher fixed him with a sardonic look, tilting his head as he sat.

‘Come on, Captain. It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’

Jim’s mouth curved slightly. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Are you and Commander Spock really together?’

‘Yes, Jacob,’ Jim smiled, running a mental hand over the bond in a way that made it ripple. He felt Spock’s answering throb of affection with warmth in his chest, overwhelmed as ever by the fact that years of daydreaming had become reality. ‘We are.’

Crusher seemed unsurprised, but then neither Jim nor Spock had tried to hide it. While Spock wasn’t exactly a fan of PDAs, there was a difference between discretion and shame.

‘He was really worried when you were gone,’ Crusher said softly, drawing one knee up onto the bed.

‘I know.’ Jim let his head fall back against the wall, hating that Spock had suffered because of him. ‘But I’m here now. And we’ll find Faeral. What the hell did you crush your fingers in, Jacob?’

Jacob let out a quiet snort of laughter, seeming more exasperated with himself than amused.

‘Slammed a wall panel onto them. I swear to God, sometimes I frighten myself.’

‘You frighten _me_ as well,’ Jim muttered, inspecting the damage done to Jacob’s hand.

‘Well, to be fair, Captain, you get injured even more than me.’

Jim raised his eyebrow, giving him an admonishing look, yet although Crusher visibly cringed, he didn’t back down.

‘Maybe so,’ he admitted, dropping Crusher’s hand. ‘Then again, I’m the Captain, so I’m responsible for all you guys. And this time, it _definitely_ wasn’t my fault.’

‘That’s true. How are you feeling, anyway?’

Jim shrugged.

‘I’m all right. I’m healing okay, still a bit sore, though.’

Jim didn’t want to mention the lingering mental effects, and although Crusher eyed him with something akin to disbelief, he only nodded, making to stand.

‘I’m glad you’re okay, Captain,’ he said seriously, cradling his broken hand with the other. ‘You’ve done so much for me, and I really appreciate it. I was so worried when you were taken, but I think I speak for all of us when I say we couldn’t have a better Captain.’

Jim’s eyes prickled as Crusher’s words hit home, a smile spreading slowly across his face as he saw how honestly Jacob believed it.

‘Thank you, Jacob,’ he said roughly, touched beyond belief. He reached out to squeeze his forearm lightly. ‘That means more than you know.’

Jacob’s lips twitched in a lopsided smile, and he gave Jim a mini salute as he turned towards the exit, stopping in the doorway once he’d pressed the release.

‘Get well soon, Captain. I’ll try and discourage anyone else from coming down today; I’m aware that you’ve had somewhat of a revolving door.’

‘Thanks, Jake,’ Jim grinned. ‘Now, go and enjoy yourself. Just don’t go trapping any more fingers.’

‘I won’t!’

Alone at last, Jim slumped back against the bed. He hadn’t lied to Jacob; his physical injuries were mostly healed, apart from a lingering muscle soreness that Spock tried valiantly to alleviate any time he noticed Jim wince. Still, in spite of all the tenderness and affection with which Spock was treating him, the nightmares persisted. Spock had told him repeatedly that it was natural that he should be traumatised, that expecting to be fine again within a week of being back on the Enterprise was unrealistic, but Jim couldn’t help but feel like a failure. His lady, and all aboard her, relied on him to keep them happy and safe. He couldn’t even keep himself safe. Not then; not now. Weakness, along with a propensity to violate the Prime Directive, was not a desirable trait in a starship Captain. Even so, the thought of his Captaincy being taken from him turned his blood to ice.

_Hayal, taluhk-veh._

Spock’s words, whisper-soft, suffused him with love. He couldn’t reply from this distance, not without a meld or a marriage bond, but he tried his best to convey how much he cared in return. To know that he was loved so unconditionally dragged him out of the darkness that often descended, when the voices of Frank and Barrett and the guards layered over one another, telling him how stupid, how _dirty_ he was, and that nobody would ever really want him. Spock refuted that with his mere presence, and his absolute devotion to protecting Jim from his memories, and to assuring him of his love. Jim never got a chance to doubt it. Even when they disagreed, or Spock was frustrated with him, there was always an undercurrent of deep affection in the bond that soothed his self-doubt.

When he turned back to his padd, feeling far calmer than before, he noticed the chronometer tick onto 1556 hours, and his heart leapt. Years ago, if someone had told him that he’d feel this excited for his partner to come home from work, he’d have laughed in their face. Now, it felt like normality, and the word partner seemed far too weak a word to describe Spock. Fiancé, perhaps, would be better. Husband. Jim shivered in pleasure at the thought of that particular fantasy becoming reality, a commitment recognised by his own people as well as Spock’s, and a belonging that, before Spock, Jim had never particularly wanted to experience. How much he had changed.

He tried not to watch the clock, the minutes crawling by like hours as he waited impatiently, but eventually, he heard the code being inputted, and his heart skipped. After days of rest, his legs were now steady, and he all but vaulted off the bed to meet Spock halfway, watching those gorgeous eyes soften with a thrill of delight a second before he found himself in a strong embrace.

‘Good afternoon, tal-kam,’ Spock said softly, closing his eyes as he leant his forehead against Jim’s.

Jim followed suit, reaching up blindly to take Spock’s face into his hands and pressing a warm, wet kiss to his lips. There was a rumble in Spock’s chest that made something in Jim’s stomach tighten, his fingers splaying wide against Jim’s back as he reciprocated enthusiastically. He deepened the kiss with a flick of his tongue that dragged a guttural moan from Jim’s throat, the wanton sound of it flustering Jim enough that he started and pulled back, burying his face in Spock’s neck.

‘Sorry,’ he whispered, not sure if he was apologising for drawing away or for his own frustrating hesitance.

‘Do not apologise,’ Spock murmured, squeezing him tight. ‘I understand.’

Jim would have been content to remain there all night, but he knew that while he remained off-duty, the ship carried on without him, and there’d surely be updates on Euridian. Brushing a soft, regretful kiss against Spock’s lips, he trailed two fingers along Spock’s hand as he pulled away, sitting on the edge of his desk.

‘Anything new from Eana?’ he asked, trying to keep the hope from his voice even if he knew that Spock would feel it through the bond.

Spock nodded, so close that he was almost within the cradle of Jim’s knees.

‘It is likely that within the next few days, another raid will occur. Eana’s intelligence officers, along with the help of our own, have isolated a number of key locations which may conceal the autocratic faction, and they would like our assistance if a raid is to go ahead.’

Jim froze at that, hearing the underlying truth.

‘They want you to go with them.’

Spock nodded once more, far more hesitantly. There was emotion akin to guilt in his eyes.

‘Not only myself. They would appreciate the support of our Security teams also, but Eana believes that my own telepathic abilities may be of use. Beloved…’

Jim could not suppress the fierce trembling that was triggered by his words, and the icy fear that came with them. He remained tense beneath the hand that came to rest upon his bicep, attempting to deliver comfort.

‘No, no,’ he said insistently, feeling somewhat like his lungs were being sat on. ‘There is _no way_ I’m letting you go down there to come into contact with that nutcase. No fucking way, Spock. If he fucked me up this bad, someone who’s practically psi-null, imagine what he could do to you!’

Spock was shaking his head, his mouth opening as he stroked smoothly over Jim’s arm, but Jim wasn’t finished yet.

‘He killed those Euridians a few days ago, and the others he left completely void, Spock. There is no way, _no way-’_

‘T’hy’la-’

‘I’ll go!’ Jim choked desperately, swallowing his own fervent terror. ‘He’s not having you!’

‘He will not _‘have me’,’_ Spock soothed, gathering Jim in his arms. ‘There will be many of us conducting the raid, and I do not intend to allow myself to be harmed.’

Jim lay boneless against him, tears leaking irrepressibly as Spock crooned softly in Vulcan into his ear, embracing him in the bond as well as with his body.

‘K’hat'n'dlawa,’ Spock said gently, ‘I will be careful, but I must do this. It is not only my duty as Commander of this ship, but as your t’hy’la also. My very soul bids me to protect you, my t’hy’la. My mate. My…’

Even through his turmoil, the way Spock trailed off sparked hope in Jim.

‘Your..?’

Faint nervousness flitted very briefly across the bond, before Spock drew back enough to cradle his cheek in one hand, stroking his thumb over the rise of Jim’s cheekbone.

‘I would be honoured if you would be willing to bond with me, taluhk-veh. My adun.’

A tearful, disbelieving laugh escaped Jim as happiness burst through him, lighting up the bond like a fireworks display. With a trembling hand, he reached up to cover the one upon his cheek, turning his face in the gentle hold to press a reverent kiss against Spock’s palm.

‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely, watching the play of emotion across Spock’s normally guarded expression with his own flush of joy. ‘I’d love to bond with you. I love you, Spock.’

Spock’s eyes were soft and bright, and when Jim said yes, he reached out to trace a slow Vulcan kiss from Jim’s temple to his lips, making a soft noise of pleasure when Jim kissed the paired fingertips.

‘Taluhk nash-veh k’dular, ashal-veh,’ he murmured, taking Jim’s face between his hands and kissing him deeply. Jim shuddered as he slid a hand into Spock’s hair, his gentle tug eliciting a soft moan that made his belly fizz. Somehow Spock had ended up pressed right against him, their bodies aligned from mouth to hip, and when Spock tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Jim found himself pulling him impossibly closer, legs wrapping around his waist. He whimpered when Spock licked into his mouth, his hips rocking as his cock began to thicken against the seam of his pants, and _oh,_ Spock was hard too, so hard for _him,_ and knowing that only made Jim more desperate.

‘Spock,’ he gasped, in between fervent kisses, rubbing himself shamelessly against him.

_‘James,’_ Spock growled, pupils blown wide. ‘T’hy’la t’nash-veh.’

Jim pulled him down for another kiss, sucking hard on his lower lip and fingering the sensitive tip of his ear as Spock began to respond, a broken moan reverberating between them.

_That’s it, honey. You feel so good._

Jim drew back to pant for air as his stomach began to tighten, and when Spock bent to suck at his pulse point, he mewled pathetically, driving his hips forward in desperation.

_Sarlah, ashaya,_ Spock panted, breath coming in little gasps.

Jim let all of his weight rest against the strong arm that encircled his waist, shamelessly chasing his climax as he ground into Spock, moaning as he felt his balls begin to tighten. All it took was one look at Spock to send him over the edge – the deep flush across his high cheekbones; the half-lidded, pleasure-filled eyes; the ‘O’ shape made by his soft, swollen pink lips – he was a wet dream come to life, and Jim loved him fiercely. A sharp cry tore from his throat as he came hard, blind and shaking with pleasure as Spock gathered him close, rutting into him until with a groan of Jim’s name, he followed him into orgasm.

Jim stroked his hair as they both came down from their high, yet although he wanted to enjoy the moment, a familiar sensation was unwillingly resurfacing. Even with the love of his life cradled against him, beautiful in the wake of his climax, Jim had begun to feel shaky and sick, and no matter how hard he tried to steer his thoughts away from Barrett and the guards, he was unsuccessful.

‘Jim?’

Trembling finely, Jim only squeezed Spock tighter, desperate not to disappoint him. What the hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t even share this with his fiancé?

‘Jim,’ Spock said roughly, withdrawing enough to look him in the eye. ‘T’hy’la, you are in pain.’

Jim shook his head, trying and failing to force down the feeling.

‘Ashayam.’ Spock dropped into the chair in front of the desk and pulled Jim onto his lap, dark eyes wide with concern, and worse, guilt. ‘I am sorry. I should not have pushed you.’

‘You didn’t!’ Jim insisted, feeling a little calmer now, and a lot more embarrassed. ‘That was me. I was the one who started rutting against you, because I wanted it. I wanted you.’

Spock was silent for a long moment, a hand rubbing rhythmically over Jim’s spine.

‘Nevertheless, I feel I should have noticed your distress.’

‘I wasn’t in any distress until after I came! I don’t want you to think this was a mistake, Spock, because it _wasn’t._ I love you, and I want to make love with you, but I just… I just-’ Jim sighed, dropping his head against Spock’s shoulder. ‘I need to stop associating sex with… with rape. You’ll help me, won’t you?’

‘Of course, beloved,’ Spock said softly, kissing his crown. ‘Immediately, however, my concern is that my underwear is now uncomfortably sticky, and I suspect yours is as well.’

Jim laughed,

‘Gross, isn’t it? C’mon then, let’s go have a shower.’

Being naked together was more comfortable than the first time, even with Jim’s most recent freak-out, and once they had showered, eaten, and gone through ship’s business, Jim settled into bed. On the floor beside him, Spock had settled into a meditative position, eyes closed and face beautifully serene. Jim, as ever, was awed that Spock would allow him to see this part of himself, knowing how private Vulcans were. Like this, there was a kind of contentment in him that Jim had rarely witnessed, so he suppressed the urge to run his fingers through that soft, fine hair, not wanting to disturb Spock in his well-earned peace.

Lying back, Jim turned on his side so that he faced him, taking comfort in the shallow rise and fall of his chest, and the soft sound of his breathing that reassured Jim that, even when he had closed his eyes, Spock was safe and _there._ As ecstatic as he was to be engaged, Jim’s attention nevertheless lingered upon the upcoming raids, and Spock’s promise to be involved with them. The very thought of Spock coming within a mile of that evil bastard made his heart race and his stomach churn, his fear of losing his love far outstripping his desire to catch Faeral. Still, to prevent him from attacking more innocents, they needed to intervene, and Jim fully intended to argue for his involvement over Spock’s when the time came. Heart still pounding, Jim drifted off into an uneasy sleep, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed close enough to Spock that he could feel his warmth.

He wasn’t sure what woke him, only that something was terribly wrong.

His throat felt tight and clogged, like there was something stuck in it that would prevent him from breathing freely. Swallowing did nothing to help, only intensifying the sense of abnormality, so he coughed in an attempt to dislodge whatever was there. The quick expulsion of air didn’t feel like it had worked, but on his next attempt at inhalation, Jim found that it had definitely done _something._ As if there was a hand crushing his windpipe, forcing it shut, he couldn’t breathe in. Panicking, he yanked at the collar of his t-shirt until it made a snapping noise as the stitches burst, then tore the fabric clear in two, but nothing he did allowed anything more than a strawful of air through his constricted throat. It felt like a bad allergic reaction, as he gulped in huge quantities of air only to find that he couldn’t drag it into his needful lungs, faintly aware of the rough, dry croak that heralded every whisper of oxygen he managed to force inside him.

He could faintly hear movement behind him, a pulse of concern both in his head, and in the voice of the person approaching, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the surety that he was going to die. With his lungs screaming, and his heart hammering in his ears, he felt, with dread, his bladder give way. He could feel urine soaking through his boxer shorts, trickling down his leg, and sickening shame pervaded even as his vision became unfocused and blurry. Then, Spock was in front of him, hands taking hold of his upper arms, and even though Jim’s instinct was to tear himself away, he forced himself not to.

‘You are going to be all right, Jim,’ Spock said, loudly and calmly. His voice was confident enough that Jim could almost believe him – _almost._ ‘This is a temporary difficulty. Concentrate on my voice. Breathe through your nose. Breathe with me.’

Spock’s nostrils flared as he dragged in one exaggerated breath after another, hands clamped firmly, but not painfully, around Jim’s biceps, eyes boring into Jim’s own. Jim could hear the rough croak of his own breath, and it frightened him, but Spock was calm and steadfast, and his composure began to alleviate Jim’s panic. His breathing slowed considerably, and as he heard the door to their quarters open, and a barking voice that was unmistakeably Bones, he felt his throat begin to relax. With Spock before him, calming him, he barely felt the scratch of the hypo that was pushed into his neck, but he certainly felt the way his breathing suddenly became effortless, and then, the uncomfortable dampness around his crotch. He closed his eyes, humiliated, as the acrid smell reached his nose, praying for it all to be some horrible fever dream.

‘It is well, taluhk-veh,’ Spock soothed, but Jim could do nothing but stand there and shake, mortified at his own weakness.

‘Spock,’ came Bones’ voice, somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. The whirr of the tricorder was a constant, steady hum. ‘Can you please go and set the shower up?’

With a final, wordless caress to his arm, Spock left, the soft thud of socked footsteps sounding out above Jim’s ragged breath. When he left, Jim opened his eyes and relaxed a little, then felt terrible for it. He trusted Spock just as much as Bones, but Bones was his doctor too, and had seen him in all sorts of compromising positions. Bones didn’t see him a sexual light, didn’t want him naked for anything but clinical reasons. Then again, would Spock after witnessing that?

The usual fake scowl that lined Bones’ face was missing, either due to tiredness or sympathy, Jim didn’t know. His scan came to an end, and Bones stepped back in his scrub-like pyjamas, fixing him with a look that was generally reserved for when Jim had woken after the most dreadful injuries.

‘You had a panic attack. A bad one. I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but it’s natural for someone who’s been through what you have.’

Jim snorted bitterly, cringing as his foot shifted and met cooling liquid.

‘I fucking pissed myself, Bones,’ he hissed, trembling with humiliation. ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘When your body goes through something like this, it kicks into survival mode. You get that adrenaline surge, your brain tells your body that it’s fight or flight, and if you void yourself of liquid, you’ll be that much quicker on your feet. I know it’s not pleasant, kid, but what happened was only instinct, nothing more. Or less, rather.’

That made Jim feel marginally better – but only marginally, because he was still stood in a puddle of his own pee.

‘Are you particularly stressed about something?’ Bones asked quietly. ‘Apart from the obvious?’

‘Last night was kinda rough,’ Jim admitted, folding his arms across his bare chest. ‘I mean, great, but some of it was rough. Spock told me that he’d been asked to help out with the next raid Eana is planning for, and I kind of lost my shit. Shouted and cried and all. But then-’

Despite being the shivering mess that he was, Jim’s lips twitched into a lopsided smile.

‘He, uh, he asked me to bond with him.’

Bones’ face cracked into a wide smile, the tricorder dropping to his side.

‘Well, I’ll be. You said yes, I presume.’

‘Of course,’ Jim grinned, shivering. ‘And then… well, I got a bit enthusiastic, I guess, but that was okay. I just couldn’t stop thinking about losing him when I went to bed, even though I should have been thinking about the rest of our lives together. Bit fucked up really.’

‘It is not, t’hy’la.’

Both Jim and Bones turned to where Spock was stood in the fresher doorway, his eyes soft, and his mind enfolding Jim’s in a loving embrace.

‘It is natural for you to fear for me,’ he said warmly, approaching with no sign of the disgust Jim feared. ‘I, too, often fear for you. Never more so than when Faeral had taken you, and when you d-’

Spock rocked in place, visibly paling. Ignoring the state he was in, Jim reached out to touch his cheek, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Neither of them had come to terms with it, and he doubted they ever would.

‘I’m here, love. Gross and sticky, I may be right now, but I’m not going anywhere… Apart from to the shower. Like, immediately.’

He began to shuffle over to the fresher, wincing at what the movement did to his saturated underwear.

‘I will come with you,’ Spock told him, and despite how disgusting he felt, Jim wasn’t about to disagree.

‘Bones, I’ll just… I’ll clean up afterwards.’

‘Nah, I’ll do it,’ he heard from behind him. ‘If I couldn’t handle bodily fluids, I’d have never made it out of med school.’

‘Thanks,’ Jim murmured, lacking the strength to argue. He allowed Spock to lead him into the fresher, stripping off his clothes with a shudder, and throwing them into the laundry chute. The hot water, when he stepped into the shower, was nothing short of bliss, but even more so was Spock’s naked body moulding against his, arms circling his waist securely. Jim’s bravado had been wavering, but in his embrace, it shattered entirely, and he slumped back against Spock, exhausted.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, letting his head fall back against Spock’s shoulder. ‘You shouldn’t have had to get up in the middle of the night because I wet myself like a three year old.’

‘T’hy’la, it was a panic attack,’ Spock said smoothly, pressing his lips to Jim’s temple. ‘I certainly do not blame you for what happened, and it is my duty as your betrothed to take care of you.’

‘Just your duty?’ Jim asked weakly, though there was humour in it.

Spock turned his face gently round, and brushed a sweet kiss against his lips.

‘And my honour,’ he murmured, the pitch of his voice spreading heat through Jim’s stomach. ‘What happened this evening was frightening for us both, and I wish to make it clear that I am not in any way disgusted or annoyed with you. I am simply glad that you are well.’

His words lifted a burden from Jim’s shoulders that he hadn’t known he’d been carrying. Letting go of the humiliation that had plagued him since he had woken, Jim kissed him once more, then washed himself thoroughly, the hot water making him drowsy. When they returned to their quarters, Bones had cleared up – for which Jim thanked him profusely – and left Jim with a hypo that would dilate his airways if needed.

‘Call me if you need me,’ he ordered, hovering by the door with his Medikit slung over his shoulder. ‘We need to talk about this, Jim, preferably before your psych eval.’

Jim nodded tightly, rolling the hypo in his hands.

‘Sure, but not- not tonight. Please.’

‘Soon, though,’ Bones insisted, fixing Spock with a sharp look. ‘Take care of him, hobgoblin. And get some sleep, both of you.’

‘Yes, mother,’ Jim muttered, collapsing on top of the duvet, eyes closing. There was a swish of fabric as Spock dragged the bedclothes out from underneath him, then he was enveloped in warmth, Spock spooning up behind him. He felt a soft kiss against the nape of his neck, but he was too tired to reciprocate, snuggling back into Spock’s chest in the only show of gratitude and affection he had the energy to make.

‘Love you,’ he mumbled, sliding his hand into Spock’s pyjama sleeve. He was so exhausted, that in a moment of enlightenment, he wondered whether there had been something else in Bones’ hypo, but sleep overtook him so quickly that he barely had time to process Spock’s quiet response, let alone his own half-formed idea.

For once, he was the first to wake. Spock was out cold beside him, lips parted prettily, and fine hair askew, and Jim couldn’t help but stare. How was it that this gorgeous creature wanted him? Sure, everyone mentioned how often people came on to him, but Spock was equally as desired – Jim had seen it. From the adoration of the Science Ensigns, to the open flirtation of planetary ambassadors and royals, Spock got just as much attention as he did, and who could blame his admirers? Now, with his features softened in sleep, and his breath whistling into the pillow, he was surely the most beautiful person Jim had ever seen.

Consumed as he was by Spock, it took a few drowsy moments for Jim to identify the tightness in his cock as an erection, and a few moments longer for him to react. His heart thumped wildly, feeling the rolling anxiety in his stomach and hating himself for it, and he started when Spock’s hand trailed over his chest.

‘Relax, Jim,’ he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep. ‘I have no expectations.’

The anxiety had made him soft anyway, which was kind of humiliating. Fuck, could he not even keep it up now? Anger at his own frigidity, and at the weakness he’d displayed last night, began to boil over.

‘Is this it forever, then?’ he said tightly, not sure whether he was talking to Spock or himself. ‘I mean, you never even mention sex, and I threw myself at you last night. Do you want me at all?’

‘Jim.’

In one sudden move, Spock pressed the hard ridge of his erection against his thigh, and Jim gasped, arching his neck for the hot mouth that began sucking on his pulse point. Jim whimpered, his heart fluttering madly, and when Spock pulled back, there was a thin ring of chocolate brown surrounding his blown pupils.

‘I want you very much, ashayam. But I am not an animal, and I will not take what you do not freely offer.’

Jim’s breath hitched, and he closed his stinging eyes. Spock trailed gentle kisses over the rise of his cheekbone, then the line of his jaw, licking away the few tears that overflowed.

‘If you think that intercourse is more important to me than your wellbeing,’ Spock said softly, tracing over his lips until Jim opened his eyes, ‘then you are very much mistaken.’

Jim nodded, releasing a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

‘I-I know. Thank you.’

He reached up to cradle Spock’s cheek, pulling him down for a languid kiss that made heat rise to his cheeks.

‘Why is it always time for you to go?’

Spock’s lips quirked, and he tenderly kissed Jim’s forehead.

‘Soon, you will be back on duty, and we will not have to spend so much time apart.’ He stood, offering two fingers to Jim, and stroking them skilfully when he reciprocated. ‘I will have to rush this morning, though. You are entirely too tempting, my t’hy’la.’

Jim grinned, lounging back against the bed.

‘Yeah, baby, you know it.’

By the time Spock actually left, the bravado had faded somewhat, and having sped through most of his administrative duties, Jim found himself with yet more time to dwell on his state of mind. His attitude to sex hadn’t been like this for years, but it was still somewhat familiar. Contrary to the stories Academy cadets liked to believe, Jim had been a late bloomer, traumatised by his experiences on Tarsus and scared – though he wouldn’t admit it – of making himself as vulnerable as sex seemed to require. He had only really begun to experiment during his Academy years, and even so, with far fewer partners than the rumours painting him as Rent-A-Dick would suggest. He wanted it with Spock so badly, wanted to seek pleasure instead of pain, but he wasn’t sure he could quite yet.

Still, Spock had said that he would wait for him. Jim felt butterflies in his stomach when he thought about how tender Spock had been with him, and how understanding he had been about what Jim barely understood himself. Jim could think of no one he’d rather commit to, and the fact that Spock had asked him to bond with him still felt like a dream. Spock made him feel so loved, so wanted, and when they did finally make love – Jim shivered at the thought – he was sure that it would be fantastic. They hadn’t discussed the particulars of bonding yet, but Jim would be perfectly happy to bond with him tomorrow, if that’s what he wanted. Years ago, he would have scoffed at anyone who appeared to be rushing into a relationship, but with Spock, he knew that this was it for life. He wanted to bond with him. He wanted to _marry_ him… but he guessed that maybe that particular proposal was his responsibility.

‘Captain?’

The uncertain voice filtered through the intercom at his door, undoubtedly belonging to Uhura.

‘Come in!’ he called, giving himself a few seconds to look vaguely presentable at his desk, gold shirt flung on over the uniform blacks he was already wearing. One of the many things Jim had always admired about Uhura was her self-confidence, in that she didn’t take shit from anyone, but there was an uncharacteristic timidity about her when she entered his quarters that morning. For a moment or two, she seemed to be struggling to look him in the eye, but once he’d offered her a seat, she relaxed a little.

‘So, I’ve been meaning to come and see you for a few days,’ she began nervously, fingers lacing in her lap.

‘Yeah, I guess I was a bit disappointed when you didn’t visit.’

She winced, and Jim felt a twinge of guilt, despite only having told the truth.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said miserably, sweeping her ponytail over her shoulder and fiddling with the end. ‘At first, I didn’t want to bother you. After that… I guess I was afraid.’

She looked him straight in the eye, and he could see genuine remorse contained therein.

‘Before you left for Euridian, I screwed up, royally. I made a really, really stupid decision on the fly, and I hurt two of my best friends in the process. I’m sure Spock has already told you, but when I kissed him, it wasn’t out of desire for him, or to upset you. It was an attempt to give Monty a kick up the ass, but it backfired horribly. I thought about you all the time when you were gone, and I couldn’t bear the idea of you thinking that Spock didn’t love you because of an idiot decision I made. I kept… I kept imagining you _dying_ thinking that, and when Spock rescued you, I was so happy – we all were. I’m sorry, Jim.’

Despite the fact that she’d hurt him, Jim had known since his return that it was unintentional, and he’d long since forgiven her. Still, hearing her apology made his chest warm, especially as it showed how much she cared for him.

‘It’s okay,’ he smiled, trying to reassure her. ‘I know you didn’t mean it. And, uh, it’s not exactly worked out too badly.’

He couldn’t suppress a blush, his smile widening giddily, and Uhura tilted her head with quirking lips.

‘Last night he asked me to bond with him.’

Her eyes widened, and then she let out a laugh akin to a sob, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

‘Congratulations!’ she squealed, squeezing him so tightly his ribs protested, then pulling back with a grin. ‘You should propose and make it a double ceremony – marriage and bonding. Although I think we’d definitely need a Vulcan to officiate…’

She trailed off, lost in thought, and Jim couldn’t help but question her.

‘So, there’s a ceremony just like a human marriage then?’

‘Most of the time,’ she shrugged, leaning back in her chair. There was a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘Although there’s always the ancient option of bonding during sex.’

Jim’s smile went crooked as he tried to repress his initial panic. She didn’t know. She didn’t know, and she meant no harm.

‘Like… normal sex?’ he asked cautiously, hoping there wouldn’t be anything rough involved.

Her forehead creased and her eyes narrowed infinitesimally. Jim found himself sweating; nobody could read body language like Uhura. She wasn’t their head Communications officer for nothing.    

‘I think so, but you’d have to ask your betrothed about that if you want more detail. How are you holding up anyway?’

‘Okay,’ Jim said quietly. It wasn’t exactly a lie. ‘I’m working through some stuff, but Spock and Bones are helping me.’

She nodded slowly, lips pursed.

‘You know, you can always come to me if you want to talk. I want to make sure you’re all right.’

‘Thanks, Nyota,’ Jim murmured, a true smile gracing his face. ‘I really appreciate it. How are you and Scotty getting on anyway?’

Subtle it may not have been, but she took to the subject change like a duck to water, her eyes gentling.

‘Great, thank you. I never thought I could have a relationship like this.’

‘You don’t miss Spock?’ he teased, earning a swat to the arm.

‘Spock’s my bestie, nothing more. With Monty, it’s just so intense. He fills a hole in me that Spock, try as he might, never could.’

A snort exploded from Jim before he could even think to stop it, his hand flying to his mouth.

‘Shut up, you dick,’ she spat, a grin unwillingly forming.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he smirked, drawing a knee up against his chest. ‘But seriously, I’m glad he makes you happy.’

‘Thanks, Jim.’

There was a genuine smile upon her face, and not for the first time, Jim marvelled at how close they had become after such a bad first impression. As he leant back in his chair, he became aware of a twinge of something dark in the bond, something that he couldn’t quite identify, but that concerned him nonetheless.

_Spock?_ he questioned, hoping that his t’hy’la would be able to hear him wherever he was on the ship.

_I am returning,_ came the quiet reply, and before Jim could question him further, the bond went silent.

Perturbed, he tried hard to concentrate on his conversation with Nyota, but found himself fidgeting nervously, losing his train of thought when it was his turn to speak.

‘Jim. _Captain,_ are you okay?’

‘Um, yeah,’ he said distractedly, looking towards the door. ‘I think something’s wrong with Spock, though. I can feel it.’

‘You mean, like, he’s sick or something?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Jim frowned, standing when he heard the lock disengage. Seeing Spock never failed to make his heart flutter, but he could still sense something a little off about him. He reached out with two fingers, and was grateful when they were met, and the wave of affection he’d come to expect washed over him. ‘Hey, sweetheart.’

‘T’hy’la,’ Spock said warmly, turning his attention to Uhura. ‘Good afternoon, Nyota.’

She smiled widely, darting a conspiratorial look towards Jim before throwing her arms around Spock in a brief hug.

‘Congratulations, Spock!’

Over the top of her head, Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim, looking ever so slightly unimpressed.

_Sorry! I couldn’t help myself._

There was an almost imperceptible sigh, but then Spock gave him a tiny nod, patting Nyota awkwardly on the back.

‘Thank you, Nyota. I trust that you and Leonard will keep this to yourself for the moment, until Jim and I have decided together how best to tell the crew.’

Jim gave him a guilty smile as Uhura drew back, though at least part of him was unrepentant.

‘Yeah, thanks, Nyota. Are you on Beta today?’

‘Mhm.’ She tightened her ponytail, looking between him and Spock. ‘I’ll leave you two to it, then. I’ll keep it quiet, but I’m so happy for you both.’

‘Thank you,’ Jim smiled, unable to stop himself gravitating towards Spock as she made to leave. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Goodbye, Nyota.’

‘Bye!’

She swept out with her usual grace, and Jim wasted no time in taking hold of Spock’s hands, itching to address the unease he’d felt a few minutes earlier.

‘What’s going on?’

Spock brought one of Jim’s hands to his mouth, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips against his knuckles, before letting their hands drop down again.

‘Eana has contacted us. New intelligence has been uncovered regarding a potential location for the rebel faction. Eana has asked me to be part of a raid. Today.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim's a little bit up and down right now, bless him. If you need any Vulcan translations, please ask in the comments. 
> 
> As I'm sure you've noticed, updates seem to be around the three week mark at the moment. Unfortunately, that's unlikely to change for now, for two reasons:
> 
> 1\. Most importantly, and I won't go into specifics, but a very serious and scary incident occurred recently that put my family under acute stress. It was literally life and death, and I was in absolutely no state to write, but I'm managing a little better now. I'm hopeful that things are going to improve, but as I'm sure you'll all understand, family comes first.
> 
> 2\. Work and RL are very busy atm, and further to that, my readership seems to have gone down, which is disheartening to say the least. I understand that ongoing WIPs can be daunting, but… idk, I’m not going to try and reason it out, because then my self-esteem takes a hit. The short and long of it is that at least some of my readers appear to have lost interest, which I really struggle with, because I'm beginning to question the quality of my writing. I'm really grateful to those of you who take the time to let me know your views, who interact with me on tumblr, and who reblog my fic posts - you have no idea how invaluable that support is to me. I've got an end goal with this story of approximately 25 chapters, so we're getting there.
> 
> Anyway, if you are reading and enjoying, please leave a comment. If you’re on tumblr, it would be great if you could reblog my fic link [post](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-of-his-soul), and I’ve also done an edit for the story if anyone wants to take a look [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/post/163296919631/captain-of-his-soul-aos-jimspock-hurtcomfort). As ever, I hope everyone has a good weekend <3


	18. Our Fearful Trip Is Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: INFO ABOUT NEXT UPDATE BELOW

‘Bones, please.’

Jim’s voice was ragged, and Spock ached to hold him, even though he was uncertain about how welcome the gesture would be right now. It was fortuitous – and somewhat suspicious – that the doctor’s daily visit had coincided with his conversation with Jim about the raid. Then again, Medbay had been informed in advance, and it was possible that with his unique insight into Jim’s character, Leonard knew how difficult this would be for him. Reaching tentatively for his love, Spock noted and disregarded the fierce look that was thrown his way, laying a supportive hand on his lower back.

‘Jim, I’m sorry,’ Leonard said firmly, ‘but you’re not even cleared for duty yet.’

Jim took in a shaky breath, clearly trying not to lose his temper.

‘Then clear me!’

‘I can’t, not without a psych eval. And I can’t do a psych eval without having that talk you promised me. Besides, they’ve asked for Spock specifically because of his mental abilities.’

‘What, so Faeral can just play with him more before he kills him?’ Jim spat, panic and fear fuelling the tempest in the bond. ‘I’m still the Captain, Bones. I’m still _your_ Captain!’

‘And I’m still your CMO,’ Leonard snarled, unaffected by Jim’s ire. ‘But more than that, Jim, I’m your friend, and I will _not_ let you destroy yourself just when you’re beginning to heal. I know you don’t want to hear this, but even after you’ve been cleared, I wouldn’t want you going down there. Trauma symptoms don’t just evaporate once you’ve decided you want to be okay again. You’re fighting them now, and you’re probably going to have to continue to fight for a long, long time. Jim-’

He grasped Jim’s shoulder, and Spock struggled not to take Jim into his arms at the sight of his brimming eyes and trembling form.

‘You’re an amazing Captain, and we all love you, but you’ve gotta take a back seat right now. You were far too long on your own, kid, and I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve got us now. I’m not goin’ anywhere, and Christ, Spock certainly isn’t either. Let him help.’

Uncertainty had replaced the swirling anger in Jim’s mind, though the fear still remained. Without thought for Leonard, Spock cupped his cheek and looked into tormented eyes, knowing how difficult it was for Jim to step back.

‘Jim, I promise that I will check in with you as often as possible. I promise that I will try my best to capture this creature, and bring him to justice. Above all, I promise that I will not put myself or our officers in unnecessary danger. I will come back to you.’

They held eye contact for a long moment, the very air around them seeming to still. Spock hid nothing from him. Earlier, he had quieted his side of the bond for fear that Jim would be afraid of the rage he was feeling for Faeral, but now, he let it loose, along with the intensity of his love, and his desire to protect his mate. His breath catching, Jim gave him a tiny nod, and Spock gathered him into his arms, attempting to still his trembling.

‘I will make certain to check in with you when I return, Doctor,’ he said lowly, catching Leonard’s eye as he slid a hand into Jim’s hair. Leonard nodded, and with a clap to Jim’s back, he left, and the two of them were alone once more. Inhaling Jim’s warm, comforting scent, Spock kissed the rounded shell of his ear, carding a hand through his soft hair.

‘I will come back to you, sa-kugalsu.’

‘What does that mean?’ Jim muttered, curling into his chest.

Spock allowed his lips to curve into a gentle, unseen smile, resting his cheek against the top of Jim’s head.

‘My betrothed.’

He felt a flush of happiness from Jim, and an unexpected spark of arousal, rapidly dimming.

‘If you get hurt, I’ll kill you,’ Jim said, the sound muffled by Spock’s uniform shirt.

Spock did not point out the obvious discrepancy there, instead choosing to squeeze him tightly, hoping for Jim’s sake that all his assurances would be the truth. They had little time left, but Spock was determined not to waste a second of it. Jim had taught him long ago that there was more to him than what duty dictated, and having almost lost him once more, Spock did not wish to be coy.

‘I fully intend to escape harm, t’hy’la. Should I return with injuries, I suspect that they would be of the nature that you could ‘kiss them better’, as you often say.’

‘I said that to you _once!’_ Jim protested, drawing away just enough to reveal lips that twitched upwards, however faintly. ‘And you looked at me like I’d just asked you to bend me over the biobed.’

This time, the arousal was mutual, and the two of them eyed each other heatedly before reality reasserted itself, and Spock recalled with discomfort the distress that Jim had experienced after their first attempt at sexual congress. Leaning down, he kissed Jim tenderly, attempting to impress on himself the taste of Jim’s mouth to carry him through the coming hours.

‘I love you, tal-kam,’ he murmured, pulling back with reluctance.

‘Love you too, hon,’ Jim said softly, reaching out for a Vulcan kiss which Spock returned. ‘I guess we should get you down to the transporter room.’

Spock nodded, giving Jim’s hand a final squeeze before stepping back to allow him to lead them out of Jim’s – their – quarters, and down towards the turbolift. He was grateful that there was no one else within as they made their silent way down towards the transporter room, stood so closely together that their arms touched from shoulder to elbow. Any apprehension Spock may have habitually felt was firmly suppressed for Jim’s sake, not wanting to exacerbate the fear and concern emanating from his soon-to-be-bondmate. Instead, he attempted to send forth a sense of calm and affection, hoping that this nightmare would soon be over for Jim.

They entered the transporter room in tandem to find the away team already assembled with Lieutenant Commander Giotto at the forefront, apparently healed from their last journey to Euridian. There was a small exclamation from Lieutenant Lewinsky, upon their entry, and turning accordingly, the landing party snapped to attention when they saw Jim, more than one with open smiles upon their faces.

‘At ease, guys,’ Jim called, cheeks flushing ever so slightly at their response.

‘It’s good ta see you back in uniform, Captain,’ Lieutenant Commander Scott beamed, coming out from behind the control deck. ‘When are you back on duty?’

‘Tomorrow, hopefully,’ Jim announced, a brittle edge to his smile. ‘I’ve gotta pass the mental equivalent of the Kobayashi Maru first, otherwise known as Bones’ battery of sign-off tests.’

‘Ahh, you’ll breeze through,’ Scott said confidently, turning towards Spock. ‘You ready to go, Commander?’

Spock nodded, glancing at Jim, who was radiating a concerning amount of dread.

‘Be careful,’ he breathed, holding out two fingers. Spock met them gladly in spite of the curious eyes upon them, earning a tiny smile from Jim, who then raised his voice. ‘Everyone be careful, you got that? I want my crew back in one piece.’

‘Yes, sir!’ was the unanimous response, and Spock made certain to lock eyes with Jim as he nodded, hoping his sincerity would be noted.

_Ha, t’hy’la._

There was a clumsy surge of affection as Spock climbed onto the transporter platform, the Security team taking their places behind him.

‘Energise, Mister Scott,’ Spock said flatly, keeping his eyes fixed on Jim’s as the world around him dissolved.

The coordinates that had been given were for inside the parliament building they had first visited, and Spock noted the heavy Security presence around them. He was glad, at least, that Eana now seemed to be taking the threat of attack seriously. It took only a few moments for Eana to notice the group, and she stood from where she was bent over a map of some kind with her advisors, approaching with a sharp-toothed smile.

‘Commander, crew, I am grateful that you could join us. We are beginning final preparations for the raid. Come.’

She motioned Spock over, and he, in turn, motioned for Giotto to follow, trusting his experience and tactical expertise.

‘This is where we believe Faeral’s group to be concealing themselves,’ she stated, enlarging a point on the holographic map with finger and thumb. ‘We have dispatched a number of small reconnaissance teams to the area, and it is their opinion that a number of Euridians are concealed within this cave system, though we cannot know for sure. Our interrogations of the prisoners from the first operation have yielded little, as it appears that Faeral does not allow his followers to be privy to his decisions until the last second.’

‘He is unpredictable,’ Spock frowned, turning the holo in a circle so that he could see each angle of the system. ‘Has a plan been devised?’

Eana nodded, motioning to her military chief, Urla, a stoic, analytical female whom Spock had only spoken with once.

‘Runners will first be sent in with detonators that will allow us to gain entrance, and push those inside the caves further together. Then, Security teams will sweep the area, incapacitating and taking into custody the rebels, whilst you and the Prime Minister along with select Security agents will concentrate on Faeral.’

Spock sent her a questioning look, confused as to why he in particular had been asked to be involved.

‘The Prime Minister has distinctly superior psychic abilities amongst our people,’ Urla clarified, minimising the cave system in order to survey the surrounding area. ‘As for you, we are aware that your species has similar abilities, but with some distinct differences. We hope that if Faeral were to employ his usual mental violence, your own abilities would offset the attack.’

‘He will not be used to your mind,’ Eana added, ‘or what you can do with it.’

‘I am not spectacularly gifted in this area,’ Spock interjected, concerned that they were expecting miracles from him. ‘No more so than the rest of my people, but I will do what I can to aid you. I have, however, heard that Faeral has extraordinary abilities.’

Eana nodded, her gills flaring in an expression of what Spock had come to understand as anger.

‘He always has. I knew him as a child, and he was unnaturally gifted… and experimental.’ Her face darkened, smooth forehead creasing. ‘That, coupled with an innate predisposition towards cruelty, and access to all the knowledge and teaching the privileged had, made him dangerous.’

She dismissed the map with a sweep of her hand, and turned to Spock, her face set severely.

‘That being said, I intend to make sure he is punished for his heinous crimes – including those against your Captain.’

‘Indeed,’ Spock said tightly, reining in his anger.

‘Will there be separate entry points for the Security teams?’ Giotto asked, watching as Urla highlighted three areas on the map.

‘Here, here, and here. We will have three sets of detonators, and we have divided our soldiers into three groups already. It will be up to you, Commander, whether your officers comes with you and Eana, or if they are divided amongst the other teams.’

Spock turned to Giotto, arching an eyebrow.

‘I think it’s best we come with you, sir.’

‘Then you shall,’ Spock agreed, his gaze flicking between Eana and Urla. ‘When will we be leaving?’

‘When our primary sun sets, which will not be long.’ Eana turned, gathering a number of the transportation devices they had used last time, and handing them to Spock. ‘Prepare your officers, Commander. Our objective will be to incapacitate rather than kill for justice purposes; I cannot see you objecting to that.’

On the contrary, the primal part of Spock objected strongly, if not particularly eloquently. That part did not rule him, however, and he shook his head, beginning to input the coordinates into the transportation devices as he had seen Eana do previously.

‘Thank you, Prime Minister. We will reconvene shortly.’

With Giotto, he returned to the Enterprise Security team, handing out the transportation devices, and briefing them of the situation. He was somewhat glad that Giotto had recommended that their officers remain together, at least partly because he and Giotto would be more able to ensure their wellbeing. Neither wanted to lose any more crewmembers, and in light of the previous raid, Spock would expend particular effort in remaining cautious. Jim would not take well to news of harm coming to him, or any of their officers.

‘Your phasers must be on stun,’ Spock ordered, taking his own from his belt and setting it accordingly. ‘The Prime Minister and I will be focusing on Faeral himself, and will require your aid in incapacitating those who may attempt to protect him. That being said, if Eana or I tell you to leave, you must do so. As far as I am aware, none of you are members of a species with psychic abilities, and therefore, this mission may be especially dangerous for you.’

There were a series of reluctant nods, and a few scattered ‘Yes, sir’s, enough to reassure Spock of their compliance. A silence ensued after he had given his orders, and, not for the first time, he wished he had Jim’s natural ability to both comfort and inspire. Jim always seemed to know what to say to his men and women, always ready with an impromptu speech and a winning smile, but Spock had none of that. He had only his logic, and his intelligence, and in this case, his determination to put things right. He hoped that that would be enough.

‘Are we ready, ladies and gentlemen?’ Eana asked, coming up behind Spock. ‘You have your orders, and we will be transporting as one to the three designated locations exterior to the cave system. If you are in serious danger, the button on the top left of your transporter device will beam you back here. Any questions?’

Nobody from their group spoke, so Spock took the initiative.

‘We are prepared,’ he informed her, exchanging a glance with Giotto. ‘How many could there be hidden, approximately?’

‘It is difficult to tell, as our heat scans cannot penetrate as deeply into the cave system as we would like, but considering the numbers we saw last time, and the little information that we have drawn out of our prisoners, I would estimate no more than one hundred souls.’

A manageable number, but if any had as formidable an ability as Faeral, the entire operation could fail. Still, his officers were watching him with naked fear and hope in their eyes, and Spock did not wish to frighten them by pointing that out.

‘Be on your guard,’ he said firmly, before nodding once at Eana.

Lifting her voice, she addressed the entire group.

‘It is important for you to know that I value your lives far more than I value Faeral’s capture. If you find yourselves in imminent danger, you may transport yourselves back here. Our objectives, however, remain unchanged. Activate your transportation devices in five, four…’

As she counted down, Spock drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm and centre himself for what was to come. He drew his phaser from its holster, his hand hovering over the activation button of his transporter with a barely perceptible tremor.

‘One.’

Spock’s hand slammed down on the button, and in a disorientating lurch, he arrived in front of an intimidatingly solid-looking wall of stone, Eana, her guards, and his own officers standing silent beside him. One of Eana’s guards was holding a small device that had already begun counting down, and when she placed it against the dark red stone, it latched on with spidery appendages. Spock and Giotto ushered their officers to one side; Eana did so with hers to the other. The number on the device ticked down with agonising slowness, leaving Spock ample time to think about Jim, waiting anxiously on the ship for his safe return. He was glad that their positions were not reversed.

Pressing his hands tightly over his ears, Spock felt the detonation rattle the ground with such force that a shockwave travelled up his body and made his teeth ache, but he pushed forward in spite of the pain. He felt a surge of adrenaline, sending blood racing round his cardiovascular system, and quickening his reflexes as the first opponents came hurtling out of the darkness. Eana held her weapon with practiced ease, cutting down those who attacked her with swooping, arcing movements. Spock was far neater, calm and methodical, determined not to waste energy on fanatical underlings when he had so much to expend on someone rather more important.

As one, the group worked their way through the tunnels of the cave, protecting themselves and one another from the violent attacks perpetrated by wild-eyed creatures desperate to protect a cruel and unequal way of life. Spock prevented Lewinsky from having his throat slit, Giotto saved Spock from what might well have been a dagger to the heart, but as they moved further in, the attacks weakened considerably. More than a few opponents laid down their weapons upon their approach, and to his horror, Spock began to meet younger and younger Euridians the further they ventured. Catching sight of one young boy, trembling head to foot in battle armour far too large, Spock motioned to Eana, who had one of her guards transport him back to Pirilia.

The fight was coming to a close, but Spock’s heart still beat frantically, his true purpose in the mission as yet unfulfilled. A shout originating from a few hundred yards away had him springing over, Eana and Giotto not far behind. Pointing into a small anteroom, Eana’s guard murmured, ‘It’s him’, fear and awe battling in his voice. Inside, two men were holding a stooped, babbling figure, and when he looked up, Spock inhaled sharply as he saw Faeral’s face. Rage sent heat rising to his face. He was ready to punish the pathetic, sobbing creature for all he had done to his James, but… something was wrong.

‘Bind him,’ Eana ordered, her face lit with triumph.

‘Wait.’

She turned to look at Spock in disbelief, but he took little notice. There was a strange sheen to the man’s face, as if he had just emerged from water, and when Spock looked close, there seemed to be a blur across his hairline.

‘This is not Faeral.’

‘Yes, yes, yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!’ the man said desperately, to which Eana scoffed.

‘What are you talking about? That’s clearly him – look at his face!’

‘I am,’ Spock said calmly, the rage dissipating in favour of a heavy, cold sense of disappointment. ‘And there is an element of illusion here.’

Stepping forward, he reached out to touch the man, and his fingers passed through where his jawline should have been. He turned to Eana, who frowned, touching the real boundary of the man’s face herself.

‘You’re right,’ she conceded, but Spock took no pleasure in her praise. ‘This is an illusion, and a difficult one at that.’

‘He abandoned us,’ the unknown man spat, and the more his face moved, the more visible his true appearance became from underneath. ‘He shoved me in here, did this to my face, and then he left us all.’

‘To go where?’ Spock asked, all too aware that time was of the essence.

The man shrugged helplessly.

‘No idea. If I knew, I’d tell you, after he left me and my family to die.’

‘You are not going to die,’ Eana said flatly, motioning to her guards, who transported him away. Turning to Spock, she continued, ‘I will ask my officers to sweep the area, but I am not very hopeful.’

‘Nor am I,’ Spock replied, his jaw setting as he calculated the frustratingly high probability that Faeral had left the area undetected. ‘He is proving a rather talented escape artist.’

‘Sir,’ Giotto interrupted, his communicator open in his hand. ‘Our Security team have apprehended a number of offenders, but based on initial physical appearances, Faeral doesn’t seem to be among them.’

Spock nodded slowly, hope all but extinguished.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. Instruct the officers to aid the Euridians in doing a final sweep of the area. Afterwards, we will return to Pirilia.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Giotto replied, looking vaguely disappointed himself. As he left the recess, Eana following dejectedly behind, Spock took up his communicator with a quiet sigh. Despite their failure in many respects, he needed to let Jim know that he was well. The call was answered almost immediately, and there was a beat of silence before Jim spoke, a thrum of hope in his voice.

_‘Spock?’_

‘Jim,’ Spock said warmly, the bond singing with joy at hearing him speak. ‘I am well.’

 _‘Thank God,’_ Jim murmured, his relief clear in the way his breath shuddered from him. _‘Is everyone else? Did you get him?’_

Heart sinking, Spock chose his words carefully, not wishing to upset him.

‘None of our officers received major injuries, though I am not sure about some of Eana’s officers. As for Faeral… we did not imprison him.’

There was a short pause before Jim’s reply, which rang with strained cheeriness.

_‘Well, I’m glad that our guys are all right. That’s the most important thing!’_

‘That is true,’ Spock agreed, uneasy about his rapid dismissal of the failure of the mission objective. ‘They have all performed admirably. Jim, I am sorry.’

 _‘Don’t- don’t apologise, Spock,’_ Jim said quietly, sounding far more genuine. _‘It’s not your fault. What happened?’_

‘He abandoned his people, and created an illusion which caused us to believe another member of the group was him. I noticed something strange about the man’s face, which turned out to be one of Faeral’s tricks.’

 _‘What a bastard. At least he’ll have no one loyal to him left soon.’_ His voice softened further, and Spock could hear the affection in it. _‘I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve been worrying about you all afternoon. Mind you, that’s nothing new.’_

‘I feel the same when you go on away missions, t’hy’la,’ Spock admitted, catching sight of Eana lingering outside the recess. ‘I must go. The Prime Minister is waiting.’

 _‘All right, Commander,’_ Jim replied, and although he sounded far more formal than before, there was lingering teasing hint to his words. _‘Keep safe. Kirk out.’_

Spock emerged from the recess to find Eana watching him thoughtfully, her expression far softer than the scowl she had been wearing when they had discovered Faeral’s trickery.

‘Was that your Captain?’

‘Indeed,’ Spock confirmed, caging one hand in the other behind his back.

‘And… your partner, I presume?’

Spock paused, uncertain, but he saw only understanding in her face.

‘Also correct.’

She smiled her unnervingly sharp smile, gesturing for him to follow her.

‘I do not judge,’ she said quietly, leading him through the winding, roughly-hewn corridors of the cave system. ‘It must have been difficult for you when he was taken.’

‘Unbelievably so,’ Spock admitted, watching two of her guards haul away a writhing, spitting male Euridian with inward disdain. ‘And now that he is back, my objective is to aid you in finding Faeral as quickly as possible. Starfleet Command has thus far allotted us unlimited time to remain in orbit, but that will not continue indefinitely. Soon enough, a new mission will call us away, and leaving without bringing him to justice would not be acceptable.’

Eana nodded, her determination as clear as his own. Spock should not – could not – forget that this man directed the systematic murder of many of her people, as well as perpetrating horrific offences against Jim.

‘There is nothing I want more, to ensure the future wellbeing of my people as much as to punish him for his crimes. Urla?’

She caught the attention of her military chief, who was surveying rather clinically the short-bladed, bloodied knife that had just been taken from the spitting captive.

‘There are a few minor injuries, but none are dead,’ she asserted, handing the knife off to a grimacing subordinate. ‘It’s a far cry from last time, but then Faeral did choose to run instead of fight. Coward.’

‘I quite agree,’ Eana replied tightly, her upright posture faltering as she sighed. ‘Back to the drawing board, then. Commander, thank you for your help. We truly appreciate the support of you and your crew.’

Spock inclined his head, pleased by her appreciation, if not by the afternoon’s events.

‘We will do what we can. Please continue to involve and update us. If the Captain is deemed medically fit to return to duty, it is likely that he will be doing so over the next few days, and I am certain that he will wish to be as involved as possible.’

‘Of course.’

‘Sir?’

Spock turned to find the landing party assembled behind him, Giotto at the forefront.

‘All of the prisoners have now been transported back to Pirilian holding cells. Our worst injury collectively is Mills’ broken finger, so we haven’t done too badly in that respect.’

‘Doctor McCoy will perhaps be less irate than usual,’ Spock said smoothly, earning a few stifled grins. ‘Prime Minister, if we are no longer needed..?’

She waved her hand in dismissal, a closed-mouthed smile hiding her jagged teeth.

‘You’re free to go, Commander.’

Nodding politely at the pair, Spock led the landing party out the way they had come, flipping open his communicator once they were free of the confines of the cave.

‘Mister Scott, the landing party is ready to beam up.’

 _‘Right you are, Commander,’_ came the affable reply, and Spock soon felt the familiar but disorientating sensation of dematerialisation, his dizziness dissipating as the transporter room came into view. The transporter room, and Jim. Even though he remained frustrated that they had let Faeral escape, seeing his t’hy’la waiting for him, a gentle smile on his wan face, lifted his spirits immensely.

‘Well done, everyone,’ Jim praised, no hint of the bitter disappointment that he must be feeling in his voice. ‘Anyone injured?’

‘A few scrapes, and Mills broke a finger, but that’s it, sir,’ Giotto replied, following Spock off the platform.

‘That’s great. Mister Spock?’

Spock, who had been gazing at Jim for an indiscriminate length of time, started minutely.

‘Can your finger await medical attention for the moment, Ensign Mills?’

She nodded, which prompted Spock to begin the short debrief, with little to convey but praise for their actions, and speculation for future away missions on Euridian. The group disbanded shortly afterwards, and with a polite farewell to Mister Scott, Spock left with Jim for their quarters. He couldn’t yet offer the support he wanted – not in public – but he allowed his fingers to brush along the back of Jim’s hand as they walked, conscious of how quiet he was. Even Jim’s side of the bond was subdued, and Spock suspected that he was attempting to conceal his true feelings about the failure of the raid to protect him.

Wordlessly, Spock caressed the taut string of their connection, attempting to soothe the tension visible in him. At his touch, Jim shuddered violently, and they came upon their quarters just in time. Spock bundled him inside, and all at once, Jim lunged at him, hands cradling his face possessively as he leant up for a fierce kiss. Only Spock’s superior strength prevented them both from crashing back into the door; he anchored Jim in place with strong arms that curled around his waist, and he returned the kiss with equal passion, swallowing Jim’s desperate whine. Just as Jim had abandoned his professional façade at the door, so too he allowed his emotions free within the bond. Spock held him tighter as he recognised the icy terror and fervent panic of the last few hours, hoping that Jim would be adequately reassured by his solid presence, and the affection he openly projected through their connection. His tongue mapped out Jim’s mouth thoroughly, curling over that spot on his palate that made him shudder, and he felt a stirring in his groin as Jim caught his tongue and sucked on it, his hand sliding up into Jim’s soft hair. Jim, too, seemed to be erect, so close that his penis pressed into the cradle of Spock’s hip, but Spock knew by now not to take that as willingness, or even a desire, for sexual activity.

‘T’hy’la,’ he rasped, as Jim’s swollen lips left his, in order to kiss and nip at his neck. ‘Oh, t’hy’la.’

Jim’s answering moan was so low it was almost a growl, his breath hot and rapid against the sensitive skin of Spock’s pulse point.

‘Next time, I’m going,’ he said roughly, and with the tip of his ear being caressed, Spock didn’t have the willpower to argue. ‘I hated being up here without you, afraid that that madman would hurt you.’

‘Then you understand how I felt when you were gone,’ Spock rasped, the painful memory of feeling the bond tear in two forcing his eyes shut. He shuddered when he felt Jim’s hands rise to cradle his face, accepting the gentle kiss gratefully bestowed upon his lips.

‘I love you, sweetheart,’ Jim said softly, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone until he opened his eyes. ‘I’m sorry you suffered so much. Even when I was being attacked by Faeral, I had hope that you’d escaped the place alive, but you didn’t have any kind of assurance until Selek intervened.’

‘But you are here now,’ Spock murmured, gathering him close. Jim went willingly into the circle of his arms, and Spock nuzzled into the soft hair at his crown. ‘And I am grateful beyond measure. I love you too, ashaya.’

Jim hummed happily, and Spock pulled him closer, content just to hold him and reassure himself that his telsu was contented and safe. A quiet beep drew them apart; Spock’s hand trailed reluctantly over the curve of Jim’s hip as he turned towards the padd leaning haphazardly against a stack of books on Jim’s desk, a light flashing upon it. With a furrowed brow, Jim went to pick it up, bringing up the message with a tap of his finger.

‘It’s from Bones. A formal invitation for psychiatric evaluation tomorrow at 1500.’ Another beep immediately followed, and Jim scrolled down. ‘And he’s asked me to come to his office after lunch to have our… talk.’

There was trepidation in Jim’s voice, yet while his nervousness was tangible to Spock, there was also a spark of hope, not insignificant amongst the tangle of emotions Jim was feeling. Spock reached out to him, taking his chin in hand and kissing him briefly, softly. When he pulled back, Jim’s eyes were troubled, though he made a weak attempt at a smile.

‘You will overcome this,’ Spock assured him, tangling their fingers together. ‘As you have overcome every other obstacle in your life. I have faith in you, Captain.’

The smile grew a little wider, and although not all of his anxiety had disappeared, he certainly seemed calmer.

‘Thanks, honey. Least it’s Bones who’ll be interrogating me.’

‘That is true,’ Spock replied, grateful that at least Jim would be more comfortable. Besides himself, he trusted no one else more with his t’hy’la. ‘Have you eaten dinner yet, beloved?’

Flushing, Jim shook his head. It was late, but Spock couldn’t blame him. If their positions had been reversed, he likely wouldn’t have been able to stomach food either.

‘Come, let us eat, then. What would you like?’

Jim shrugged, allowing himself to be guided back into his desk chair.

‘Paella, maybe?’

Spock replicated a vegetarian version for himself, and as they ate, he noticed that Jim was eating far more quickly than usual, furtive in his movements. Hypothesising that he was reacting to either the stress of the day, or anticipating the next, Spock didn’t comment, but reached out to hold his hand over the table. This served the dual purpose of comforting him, and preventing him from eating too fast, but Spock also found himself rewarded with a smile so beautiful that he felt all the disappointment of the mission melt away. Jim was almost as adept at calming his rare bouts of negative emotion as he was at inflaming his passions, and Spock appreciated him all the more for it. Throughout the evening, he was nonetheless aware that the coming day would prove challenging for them all, but far more so for Jim. When they got into bed that night, he made sure to hold Jim tighter than usual, hopeful that he would come out of the evaluation emotionally intact. Whatever the outcome of tomorrow, he would make certain to take care of the man he intended to make his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's past midnight, so I missed my deadline, but it's done! I really struggled to get this chapter done on time, as there's still a lot of difficult stuff going on IRL, but we'll see how it goes. The next chapter should hopefully be up within 2-3 weeks, and I'll keep you all updated via tumblr.
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I hope that you'll take the time to comment if you did. I got a fantastic response on the last chapter, and I really appreciate that, as well as all the well-wishes for my family. Thank you. If you want to catch up with me on tumblr, my handle is @pastmydancingdays, and all COHS updates are in [this](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain+of+his+soul/) tag, as well as each chapter post. If you're on tumblr, I'd always appreciate a reblog of those. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend :)
> 
> EDIT: As those of you who follow my tumblr may already know, I've been very ill over the last week or so with a serious virus which has prevented me from getting out of bed, let alone writing. The next update was originally due on the 27/10, but unfortunately, I'm having to push it back to 03/11 because I'm not yet recovered. Just wanted to update those of you who aren't on tumblr, and this is the first time I've had the physical strength to do so.


	19. The Crownless Again Shall Be King

‘So. How’re you doing?’

Jim swallowed around the lump in his throat, the desk between him and Bones feeling a far wider gap than usual.

‘Okay, I guess.’

‘Jim,’ Bones sighed, leaning back in his chair. ‘Relax, for God’s sakes, this is completely off the record. The psych eval is separate and structured, and if you’re really worried about this talk bleeding across, I can get M’Benga to do it.’

‘No,’ Jim said immediately, the thought of anyone else prying into his head making him balk. ‘I want you to.’

Bones nodded, the warmth in his gaze and the slight curve to his mouth going some way to calming Jim down.

‘That’s fine, but I want you to forget about it for an hour or two. I know you’re dealing with a lot of shit right now, shit that’s been dragged up from years ago, and I don’t think I know about everything you’re reliving. You don’t have to tell me everything, Jim, but I hate to see you suffer, and if it will help unburden you, then I’m here to listen.’

Jim felt his eyes fill, beyond grateful for his best friend, and the support he was always there to offer.

‘Thanks, Bones,’ he murmured, drawing his legs up until he sat cross-legged in the chair, determined that if he was going to bare his soul, he’d at least be comfortable doing it. ‘God, I don’t know where to start.’

‘How about telling me what happened when you woke up in Medbay, the day you had that panic attack?’

Jim shivered, the enormity of it making him cold. Disclosure had always been extraordinarily difficult, even with Bones.

‘So, you know more than anyone about my life, ’cept for Spock,’ he said quietly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. ‘But you don’t know everything. That day, I was talking to Spock about something he’d seen when he was searching for me – a memory – and I got a bit freaked out.’

He drew in a slow breath, thankful that Bones hadn’t yet interrupted him, his eyes warm and understanding.

‘You know that Frank was a bastard, that he used to hit me and Sammy, and that he was a drunk. But he was also a big gambler, and he made all sorts of bets with his friends, and one of his friends _liked_ young boys.’

Jim was looking down at the desk, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Bones’ hand tighten around his cup of coffee until his knuckles were white.

‘So one night I came back from school, and Sammy was away at a friend’s, and he told me to go upstairs. Saying no was never an option with Frank.’ He paused for a moment, struggling for control over the bile rising in his throat. ‘When I went, one of his buddies was waiting in the spare room, and he- he-’

‘Jim,’ Bones said weakly, sounding broken-hearted, but Jim couldn’t look at him yet.

‘He molested me,’ he blurted, one knee bouncing erratically. ‘That was the first time someone touched me, but it wasn’t the last.’

‘Fucking bastards,’ Bones raged, visibly upset. He shoved his coffee aside in order to lean over the desk, ignoring the way liquid sloshed out of the mug. ‘Disgusting motherfuckers. Who?’

Jim briefly closed his eyes, hyperaware of his thudding heart.

‘How’d you think I got food on Tarsus?’

An awful sound came out of Bones mouth, low, and broken, and indefinable but for the way it lifted the hairs on the back of Jim’s neck.

‘I had my kids to feed, Bones,’ Jim whispered, afraid to raise his voice in case it cracked. ‘I had all those kids with me, and they were starving, and some of them starved afterwards, but far, far fewer than before.’

His eyes stung, and his throat ached, but he knew he couldn’t stop, not now.

‘It was almost a business transaction. I got supplies for my children, and they held me down, one by one, and-‘

He cut himself off, tears spilling at last, and without a second’s delay, Bones was out of his chair and had him in a solid embrace. Jim brought one hand up to cover his face as he sobbed, his pain threaded heavily with embarrassment, but the other returned the hug, fisting in Bones’ shirt. It was testament to how serious the conversation was that Bones didn’t complain about him crumpling his uniform.

‘’M’sorry, Jimmy,’ Bones said hoarsely, squeezing him tight. ‘You were a damn child, and they were all evil fucking bastards, and I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.’

Jim shook violently, trying in vain to repress both his tears and his memories. With a final squeeze, he pulled away from Bones, all but collapsing in his chair as he tried to gather himself. Wiping at his streaming eyes, he watched Bones take his own seat rather more carefully, watching him with devastation.

‘For years afterwards, I avoided sex,’ he continued roughly, leaning his head against the back of the chair with a soft _thunk._ ‘It was only when I got to the Academy that I decided that it wasn’t going to hold me back anymore, but I didn’t go overboard. But, _somehow,_ everyone thought I was this huge fucking slut – I-I mean, I know I’m flirty, but some of the stories people came up with were fucking ridiculous, and no one but you and Gaila and some of the others held any kind of respect for me, and…’

He trailed off, repressing a shiver.

‘I got back to normal. Got back to how I should be, but now I feel like I’ve just escaped Tarsus again.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Bones quietly replied, reaching forward to briefly capture and squeeze the arm that Jim had resting on the desk. ‘From what you and Spock have told me, the way you relived it was as if you were there again, so naturally you’re going to be traumatised.’

Jim nodded stiffly, moving to sit cross-legged once more on the chair.

‘What in particular is most bothering you? Is it that Faeral is still free?’

‘That’s my priority right now, of course,’ Jim muttered, scrubbing away the remainder of the tears from his face, ‘but there’s something else too. You might freak out about me talking about this, but you’re a doctor as well as my friend, so if you do, you can damn well suck it up.’

Bones cocked an eyebrow, looking vaguely irritated, which comforted Jim no end. Still, he felt heat rise to his face when he started speaking.

‘So, you know Spock and I are Vulcan-engaged? Well, I, uh, I got a little hot and bothered when he proposed to me, and I kind of threw myself at him, and we – well, we didn’t have sex exactly, but we made each other come – but afterwards I felt all shaky and sick. He was upset because he thought he should have realised, but I didn’t feel like that until afterwards.’

‘It’ll have been the shock. You probably weren’t thinking about it when you were getting off, but afterwards, you’ll have been coming to terms with what you’ve just done, and maybe a part of you associated the physical act of it with the abuse.’

Jim scowled, hating that he associated _anything_ about Spock with those bastards.

‘But it’s not like that at all. It might involve a dick, but that’s the only similarity between what was done to me and what we did together. I just want to get over this stupid fear.’

‘He’s not pressuring you, is he?’

‘No!’

‘’Cause I’ll kill him if he is.’

‘No, Bones, he would never,’ Jim said firmly, leaning against the desk. ‘He’s so, so careful with me. So patient and gentle, and he never does anything to make me uncomfortable.’

He flushed as he remembered the way that Spock had held him when they were moving together, and the abandon in his lovely face when he came.

‘I’ve no problem getting an erection around him, and I want to have sex with him so badly, but I don’t know how to stop myself from freaking out when we do.’

The look of discomfort on Bones’ face lightened, only to be replaced by sympathy in the wake of Jim’s helpless words.

‘I’m not a psychiatrist, Jim,’ he gently reminded him, ‘so the only advice I can give you is what I think to be best on a personal rather than professional level. And I don’t think there’s a magic fix. I’m afraid all I can recommend is that you give yourself time, and test your boundaries as and when you feel ready and able to. If Spock’s patient, like you say, then he’ll be happy to give you that time. If you feel like trying to have sex, then great, but if you don’t, don’t sweat it. I’m always here if you need to talk, but I think that this is something you and Spock need to heal together.’

Jim nodded, giving him a tiny smile. He’d suspected that there would be nothing that Bones could do for him – apart from prescribe anxiety meds, which he’d always flatly refused – but even just speaking to him about it was reassuring. To know that there was nothing else he could be doing in Bones’ point of view was freeing, in a way.

‘Thanks, Bones. I appreciate the advice, truly. And I also appreciate that you didn’t throw me out the second you heard me say ‘hot and bothered’.’

‘What are friends for?’ Bones deadpanned, taking hold of his coffee once more. ‘Though if you ever give me specific details of what you and the hobgoblin get up to in bed, I assure you, I can make your life very, _very_ miserable.’

They spent the next hour or so talking frankly about Jim’s experiences on Euridian, and the memories he’d relived, and far from traumatising him, Jim found the experience cathartic. He felt far lighter, and more relaxed than he had done that morning, and when the time finally came for the eval to go ahead, his nerves were minimal. Just before he went to gather his materials, Bones took him by the shoulders, and made certain that Jim was looking him in the eye.

‘I want you to know that you’re the reason I’m still on this damn rust bucket… don’t tell Scotty I said that. But seriously, Jim - you gave me purpose when I had none, even if it was just that you gave me someone to try and look after. I want you to pass this evaluation more than anyone. You ready?’

With a lump in his throat, Jim smiled more genuinely than he had all day.

‘Let’s do this.’

Almost three hours later, Jim made his exhausted, but elated, way back to his quarters, triumphant that he would be back to work tomorrow. He would have been devastated if Bones had failed him, but he trusted that Bones had made an honest decision. After all, neither of them wanted to endanger the crew. The talk beforehand had certainly helped, and in spite of the fact that Faeral was still out there, Jim felt positive. They would get him, and he and Spock would get married, and they would carry on exploring the universe with their family as they were meant to do.

He had a spring in his step as he neared his quarters, certain that Spock would be waiting for him, as patient and loyal as ever. Now that he’d been cleared to return to duty, they would be able to spend more time together, and Jim was determined to do everything he could to help Eana catch Faeral, for his own sake, as well as the Euridians’.

The moment he stepped through into their quarters, Spock was reaching for him, and affection washed over him in a thick wave of warmth as he was drawn into a strong embrace.

‘Well done, my t’hy’la,’ Spock murmured, ghosting a kiss against his temple as he carefully drew back. ‘I am very proud of you. Your brother and Peter are on the comm.’

‘Oh!’ Jim squeaked, pressing a short, hard kiss to Spock’s mouth before pulling back, and dragging him by the hand towards where Spock’s padd rested upon the desk. ‘Just pulling you across to the computer, Sammy.’

He flicked his finger across the screen on the padd, and the picture appeared on the computer monitor, showing Sam, alone, from the shoulders up.

‘Where’s the baby?’ Jim asked eagerly, to which Sam heaved a dramatic sigh.

‘You use me for my child.’

He reached down somewhere below Jim’s line of sight, and lifted Peter into view, the little one’s sleepy blue eyes half-lidded.

‘Hey, buddy,’ Jim cooed, watching him ball his little fists with pride. ‘How’re you doing, baby boy?’

Peter mewled, chubby legs kicking out, and the wave of love that engulfed Jim was overwhelming. As Spock sat beside him, he took hold of his hand and laced their fingers together, wanting him to share in the affection that he was feeling for their nephew. Spock gently rubbed his thumb over the outside of Jim’s, allowing him to feel his own fondness for the little one, which made Jim’s chest warm.

‘He’s doing great, aren’t you, sweetie?’ Sam smiled down at Peter, letting his tiny hand wrap around one of his fingers. ‘Feeding every three hours, which he’s enjoying.’

‘I pity Aurelan,’ Spock interjected, to which Jim nodded solemnly.

‘How is she?’

Sam shifted Peter in his arms, a soft smile gracing his face.

‘Tired. Sore. Happy.’ He tickled Peter’s foot, eliciting a burble. ‘I’m trying to let her sleep as much as I can.’

‘That is good,’ Spock replied, soft emotion flowing into Jim’s mind like the rising tide. ‘I believe Jim has a few things to tell you.’

Jim leaned into him rather indiscreetly, grateful that Spock allowed him so close in front of his brother.

‘Well, first of all, I passed my eval,’ he began, cutting short Sam’s exuberant praise with a raised hand and an ever-widening smile. ‘Thank God for that, I know. But more importantly…’

He trailed off, exchanging an affectionate glance with Spock, the softness in his dark eyes making Jim’s heart flutter.

‘We are to be bonded,’ Spock finished, the fingers of his free hand skimming gently up Jim’s arm.

Sam grinned, and Jim along with him, blindingly happy, and not afraid to show it.

‘Congratulations, guys! I’d ask to be invited to the ceremony, but I know you’re pretty far out right now, so I’ll just have to watch on a padd.’

‘Bonding doesn’t always involve a ceremony, apparently,’ Jim chirped, ignoring Spock’s side-eyeing. ‘And you _really_ wouldn’t want to be watching what’s involved in that case.’

‘Jeez, Jim,’ Sam muttered, and Jim laughed, feeling Spock’s embarrassment with a spark of glee.

‘Ahh, don’t be such a spoilsport. Wish we were nearby, though. I’d love to see this little boy in person.’

His voice took on a decidedly babyish tone towards the end of his sentence, and Peter’s electric blue eyes fixated on him, a chubby fist rising to his mouth to be suckled upon.

‘He’s a real cutie, I’ll give you that,’ Sam smiled, and Jim made a nonverbal sound of agreement. He watched, captivated, as Peter’s tiny socked feet kicked and his mouth opened in a yawn, his saliva-covered fist falling from it as he began to grizzle.

‘Hey,’ Sam crooned, stroking his little cheek with a finger that he turned his head to suckle on. ‘Aww, he’s hungry, I’ll have to go and wake Aurie. Glad I got to speak with you guys, though. Congratulations, again!’

They both gave their thanks and goodbyes, and Jim was overjoyed by the fact that Spock now seemed to have made a habit of speaking directly to Peter as well as Sam, his voice softening, just a little.

‘It’s strange,’ Jim remarked, as he turned away from the screen. ‘I love that child so much, and I’ve not held him once.’

‘I, too, feel affection for him,’ Spock mused, hovering around the replicator. ‘We have seen him numerous times now, and that seems to have been enough to create strong attachments. Perhaps they will strengthen further when we come into physical contact with him. What would you like for dinner?’

Blinking at the abrupt subject change, Jim requested a cheese toastie and fries, feeling justified in doing so because of his success in the evaluation. Spock sat beside him with a bowl of what Jim had come to recognise as plomeek, chosen enough that he knew it was Spock’s favourite, whatever he said about Vulcan indifference. They ate slowly, hindered by the need to touch and kiss, fingers sliding together in motions that were so deliberate and lingering, they were almost erotic. When they were done, Jim cleared their plates away, and took Spock’s hand, drawing him towards the bed. The talk with Bones and passing his evaluation had alleviated at least part of his anxiety, and he felt far lighter than before, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. He felt more able to bare himself to Spock, and seeing Peter again had got him thinking about the children he’d seen in Faeral’s illusion. Real or not, he wanted to share them with the Vulcan who could one day be their father.

‘Are you well, ashayam?’ Spock asked him tenderly, pulling his boots off for him when he sat. ‘You seem… preoccupied.’

‘I’m better than I have been for weeks,’ Jim admitted, settling cross-legged on the bed. ‘I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.’

He hesitated for a moment, then took hold of Spock’s hand, drawing it to his face. Spock’s forehead creased ever so slightly, his fingers instinctually twitching towards Jim’s meld points.

‘I-I want to show you something, if you don’t mind. It was one of Faeral’s illusions.’

‘I wish to share in all your experiences,’ Spock said simply, caressing Jim’s cheek. ‘Are you certain, ashal-veh?’

Jim nodded, turning his face in Spock’s hold to kiss the heel of his hand, and watching him shudder with joy.

‘Please.’

Spock leant forward to brush their lips together before sliding his fingers into place over Jim’s meld points, whispering a string of Vulcan that Jim didn’t understand as they fell into one another with ease. There remained dark skies beyond the horizon of the meadow in Jim’s mind, but the storm surging outside its bounds seemed less violent, if only a little. Jim took that as a positive sign, even if there lingered certain issues that were unresolved.

_Think of what you wish to show me,_ Spock said softly, his incorporeal form pressing comfortingly into Jim’s. _Bring it to the forefront of your mind._

_Easier said than done,_ Jim murmured, but it took less effort than expected to draw forth the illusion that Jim had wished so badly to be reality. He took Spock’s hand as they came into view in their bed, squirming with something close to arousal when their doubles kissed, the image of Spock bearing him onto his back on the mattress. Spock squeezed his hand gently, evidently anticipating some form of evil he would have to protect Jim from. Feeling a thrill of nervousness, Jim turned to look at him when the call came from outside the room – ‘Daddy! Sa-mekh!’

Spock had frozen, his expression unreadable, but when his double rose to let the children in, something like awe passed between them.

_Ours?_ he asked faintly, watching himself scoop them into his arms, cuddling them close.

Jim felt a rush of love, both for him, and for the children they may not ever have, smiling tremulously.

_Ours,_ he confirmed, a laugh bubbling from his lips as he watched their antics, tinged with longing. _We’re – they’re – going to pick up a new baby._

Spock blinked, his whole expression softening along with his eyes as he let go of Jim’s hand to take a closer look at the children, Gabriel squealing happily as other-Spock threw him into the air.

_What are their names?_ he asked hoarsely, kneeling beside the image of himself.

Smiling gently, Jim followed, coming to rest at his side.

_Lydia and Gabriel._

_And T’Lyra is the new child, I presume,_ Spock confirmed, his eyes never leaving Lydia as her sa-mekh spoke to her in Vulcan.

_Yep. Want to see her?_

He didn’t wait for the answer he knew would be positive, skipping ahead to the transporter room, watching Spock’s abortive movement towards their would-be son when he cried at their arrival on New Vulcan.

_I know,_ he said softly, sliding his arms around Spock and relaxing into the returned embrace. _I want to hold them too._

They watched together as their doubles entered the children’s home, and Jim’s lips curved into a gentle smile when T’Lyra was brought to them, marvelling anew at the tenderness in the other Spock’s face. He’d be a good father, Jim knew.

_They are beautiful, t’hy’la._

_They are,_ Jim agreed, his smile evaporating as the children disappeared, Faeral looming in their place. A mixture of rage and fear churned in his stomach, and he crowded against Spock, who held him tightly.

‘Where’s Spock? Where are my _children?’_

‘Don’t you remember, Jim? You have no children. And Spock is in someone else’s arms.’

Spock emitted a snarl that was almost rabid, and he turned Jim into his chest, returning them to reality in one sharp movement. They emerged, gasping, from the meld, and Jim could feel tears welling in his eyes.

‘I know they’re not real,’ he said thickly, leaning into the cool hand that cupped his cheek. ‘But I want them to be.’

He closed his eyes as Spock leant his forehead gently against his own, a thumb sliding over his lower lip.

‘One day they may very well be,’ Spock murmured, so close that they were breathing one another’s air. ‘There is no one I would prefer to father my children.’

Overcome with emotion, Jim surged up and kissed him fiercely, sliding a hand up into his silky hair and tugging gently. Spock shuddered against him, tilting his head and licking into Jim’s mouth, his tongue moving confidently over where Jim was most sensitive, and winning an answering shudder from him. When he lapped across Jim’s lower lip, drawing it into his mouth to suckle upon it, Jim moaned low in his throat, desire beginning to curl in his belly. He tried not to think too much about it, wanting to relearn how to ride that wave of losing control, and to let things work out naturally, in whatever way that might be. Luckily, Spock was proving extraordinarily good at distracting him from his own thoughts, that soft, gorgeous mouth trailing down his neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Jim’s heart was racing, and when Spock began sucking heatedly at his pulse point, he mewled, the sound tinged with a desperation that even he could discern.

‘Beloved?’ Spock said roughly, his voice dropping an octave in a way that made Jim’s groin tingle. ‘Do you wish to stop?’

Jim trembled, arching into the hand that smoothed over his chest and stomach. He shook his head, lying back against the bed and pulling Spock with him, feeling somewhat as if he were standing before a fork in a road.

‘I don’t want to stop,’ he breathed, trailing a finger over the point of Spock’s ear and enjoying the way his breathing hitched. ‘I do want to slow down a bit, though. I-I want to try this.’

He didn’t specify what ‘this’ was. He didn’t have to. Understanding blanketed Spock’s expression, and his fingertips stroked gently over Jim’s cheek.

‘You are welcome to say no at any time. Are you averse to me unclothing myself?’

In response, Jim lifted the hem of his shirts, divesting him of them both and dropping his hands to tease at his zipper.

‘Tell me if I do something you don’t like, ’kay?’ he asked softly, as they made a collaborative effort to remove Spock’s pants.

‘Of course,’ Spock said, nude but for his boxer shorts, and _God,_ Jim still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be his. Spock’s muscles were lean but defined, thighs taut as he knelt beside him, and his thick chest hair tapered down into an impressive treasure trail that Jim itched to sink his fingers into. With a quick, affirming glance up, he indulged himself, combing through hair that was far less coarse than a human’s would be, thumbing lightly over a nipple. Spock jerked, a flush spreading across his upper chest, and when Jim looked down, _oh,_ little Spock seemed to be joining in with the party as well. It looked almost painful, the way he was straining against his boxers, a wet patch seeping through just where the head would be, but Jim didn’t try to touch as he might once have done. Slow, Kirk. Slow so you don’t freak out on him again.

‘You’re so gorgeous, baby,’ he said breathily, then cleared his throat in attempt to regain his dignity.

Spock gave him an indulgent look, taking up his hand in order to kiss his knuckles.

‘I believe there is a saying about humans in glass houses.’

Jim felt his face heat, and before he could chicken out, he started to pull his own shirts off, aided by Spock, who folded them as he had his own. Stifling a laugh with a fond smile, Jim wriggled his pants off and copied him, considerably less neatly. The amusement had taken the edge off a little, but his breath caught when he saw the way Spock was looking at him. His eyes were dark with desire, that lovely chocolate brown swallowed almost entirely by his pupils, and Jim’s growing cock twitched as they travelled down his body.

‘You are beautiful, my beloved.’

‘I- thanks,’ Jim blushed, having begun to protest, but prevented from doing so by Spock’s hard stare. ‘C’mere.’

He lay back once more, beckoning for Spock to join him, and he shivered as the dense weight of Spock’s body settled against his own, nothing between them but their underwear. There was a moment of absolute stillness, as if the whole ship was holding its breath, but then Jim relaxed enough to take hold of his hand, idly playing with his fingers.

How sensitive are your hands?’ he asked, watching Spock’s lips parted in a pretty ‘O’ with a thrill of arousal.

‘Very much so,’ Spock rasped, something suspiciously like a whine leaving his mouth as Jim dragged his tongue up the underside of his ring finger. ‘T’hy’la, please.’

Jim gave him a wicked grin before threading a hand into his hair and pulling him back down into a kiss, far slower and deeper than the one before. There was an eroticism in the way their mouths slid together, lingering and sweet, and Jim found himself gently undulating his hips, testing the waters for what was to come. Spock had held himself rigid until now, but when Jim slid a hand down his bare back, enjoying the feel of cool, hard muscle beneath his palm, he tentatively began to reciprocate. Jim’s breath hitched at the glorious friction, heat spreading through his entire body, and in a move that took far more effort than it should, he broke their kiss.

‘Will you touch me?’ he murmured against Spock’s lips. He looked up into warm dark eyes, confident in the knowledge that Spock would never hurt him. ‘Help me get used to your hands on me.’

‘Yes, my love,’ Spock purred, his mouth descending to suck lovebites into Jim’s neck as his hand smoothed up his arm and across his chest, palm dragging over his nipple. Jim shivered, goosebumps appearing despite the heat of the room and his own arousal, and when Spock gently pinched it, mischief alight in his eyes, he mewed as a shock of pleasure went through him.

‘There, t’hy’la?’

‘Yes,’ Jim panted, arching up as Spock’s lips closed around his nipple. He slid a hand into Spock’s hair, moaning as Spock’s tongue circled his areola, flicking over the teat of his nipple before sucking gently. ‘Spock, please.’

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for, but Spock seemed to know, suckling dutifully until Jim was crying out, and both nipples were swollen pink and almost unbearably sensitive. Clutching at Spock’s hair, he writhed as Spock kissed and licked his way down his stomach, but when the kisses reached his waistband, fear sparked, and he froze. Immediately, Spock tried to move away, concern filling his lovely face, but Jim clung on with arms and legs both.

‘No, stay,’ he said stubbornly, the fear melting away as suddenly as it had come. ‘Sweetheart, I just need to get past this initial freak-out, and I’ll be fine.’

‘But you are distressed,’ Spock protested, the strain in his underwear clearly visible despite the steadiness of his voice.

Jim shook his head, loving him all the more for his consideration.

‘Not any more, love. Touch me.’

He guided Spock’s hands to the waistband of his boxers, and together, they pulled them down to reveal Jim’s half-hard cock. Although slightly frustrated by the way his erection had wilted, Jim nevertheless offered himself up to Spock, breath shuddering at the arousal in his eyes.

‘M’sorry, I-’

He stopped speaking as Spock’s hand rose, and a finger tapped lightly against his lips in a shushing gesture.

‘Do you still want this?’ Jim nodded, nipping at his finger and enjoying the way his breath caught. ‘Then hush, beloved. Feel me.’

He pressed a sweet kiss to Jim’s lips before leaving a scattered trail back down the length of his body, until he reached the apex of Jim’s thighs. Jim was practically vibrating with need, and he let his thighs fall upon under Spock’s hands, the vulnerability of it all overridden by the desire ricocheting between them in the bond. To his dismay, after a thorough, dark-eyed inspection of his cock, Spock bypassed it entirely, kissing the tender skin of his inner thigh instead. Jim whimpered in protest, arching into him, but Spock held his hips down firmly, brushing a conciliatory kiss to his shaft before moving over to the other thigh. Jim’s erection returned full-force at the kittenish licks to the crease of his thigh, flushed an angry red and throbbing with his heartbeat; he was sure he’d never been so hard.

‘Baby, _please,’_ he begged, simultaneously agonised and pleasured by the kisses so close to where he needed them.

Spock took his sweet time sucking a love bite into his inner thigh before looking up, pupils blown hugely. A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips, before he bent to lap his way up the underside of Jim’s cock. Blindsided by the exquisite feeling, Jim choked on his own breath, hands falling to fist in the duvet lest he tug too hard on Spock’s hair, as Spock pressed a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses over his straining shaft. Quivering, muscles taut as bowstrings, Jim feared he might come before they even began.

‘Spock, I-I need…’ he whimpered, eyes rolling back as Spock dragged the flat of his tongue greedily over the head of his cock. ‘Will you suck me?’

‘It would be my pleasure, k’diwa.’

Without a second’s hesitation, Spock took him in hand, and into his mouth, sucking strongly. There was as much relief as pleasure in Jim’s moan as he felt his cock throb, the hot, wet suction around it and Spock’s dark eyes gazing up at him not only driving his arousal higher, but becoming his anchor points. Freeing his hand from the bedcovers, he reached down desperately, and Spock threaded their fingers together, taking him further into his mouth.

_Ha’su. Come for me._

His hand descended to cup Jim’s tight sac, tongue dipping into the slit of his cock, and Jim all but howled, rocking desperately into his mouth.

_Come._

One more hard suck, and Jim was crying out his name, the tight coil of pleasure in his groin unravelling all at once as he came hard, pulsing thickly into Spock’s waiting mouth. He moaned as the delicious aftershocks made him jerk, Spock swallowing his seed and suckling for the last few spurts, one hand – _oh._ Spock let his softening penis drop from his mouth as he panted, breaths coming quick and shallow as he stroked his own sodden cock, his lubricating fluids dripping endlessly onto the bed.

‘C’mere, sweetheart. I’ll make you come.’

Dazed though he was from the enormous pleasure of his climax, Jim reached out with an uncoordinated hand and took hold of Spock’s erection, savouring the ragged cry that left soft, swollen lips. Spock rocked shamelessly into him, eyes half-lidded.

‘That’s it, love.’ Jim tightened his grip, setting a pace designed to get him off quickly, and revelling in his shallow gasps. ‘That’s it. You’re almost there, aren’t you? So close, Spock.’

He could feel it in the bond as much as in the cock throbbing in his hand, Spock a vision as he chased his pleasure, hands clutching spasmodically at the duvet, moaning low in his throat. Jim slid his hand up to tease between the ridges of his cock, and the second he was touched there, Spock convulsed, spurting over Jim’s chest and stomach with a cry.

‘Jim!’

‘Beautiful,’ Jim murmured, milking him of every last drop. When he was done, Spock slumped back onto his knees, but only for a moment. Before Jim could summon up the energy to move, Spock leant down and kissed him softly, a hand rising to caress his cheek before he rose from the bed. Perhaps predictably, Jim felt a frisson of panic as he left, but he was reassured by a caress through the bond, and Spock soon returned with a damp cloth to wipe him down.

‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ Jim smiled, the contentment of his orgasm giving way to exhaustion. ‘I’m about ready to drop.’

Throwing the cloth into the laundry chute, Spock returned to the bed and slipped under the duvet beside him, cuddling up against his chest.

‘Luckily, you are already laid down.’

Jim huffed a soft, amused breath out through his nose, carding a hand through his hair. He nuzzled into his crown, pressing a kiss to it as he pulled him closer, basking in the warmth he provided.

‘I can’t wait to get back on the Bridge tomorrow.’

‘Nor I,’ Spock replied, his voice a sleepy murmur. ‘It is where you belong.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm not dead! Those of you who follow my tumblr will know that in addition to the lingering family issues, I was very, very ill a week ago, which prevented me from doing pretty much anything, let alone writing. I'm better now (thank God), but that's why this chapter took a while. Next one will be up within 3 weeks, unless I'm at death's door again!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter - I think it's a really important one, for Jim especially. Please do leave me a comment If you did, and you can follow fic updates/reblog my fic posts [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain+of+his+soul/) at my tumblr. I hope everyone has a great weekend :)


	20. If Starry Space No Limit Knows

‘I can’t wait to take a look at Ferreira’s heat-sensor maps! We’re going to get this bastard soon, Spock, I can feel it. Has anything changed up there? You haven’t let Chekov sit in my chair, have you? He might be cute but he messes with the buttons and I don’t like it. Did-’

Amused despite Jim’s continuous rambling, Spock kissed him firmly, quieting him, at least for the moment. Jim hummed into his mouth, flicking his tongue over Spock’s lower lip, but Spock did not allow the kiss to deepen, noting the scant seconds before they would be revealed to the Bridge crew.

‘The heat-sensor map is proving useful, and I have no doubt that we will soon find Faeral. Nothing of import has changed, although morale dipped significantly in your absence. To my knowledge, Ensign Chekov has not sat in your chair, but I cannot account for what occurred in my absence. We have all missed you.’

The last was not difficult to admit, and Spock enjoyed both the flush that rose across Jim’s cheekbones, and the swift kiss that was pressed to his lips a second before the doors opened. Spock held back to allow Jim to enter the Bridge before him, and barely a moment had passed before Chekov turned round, joy suffusing his expression.

‘Keptin on the Bridge!’ he loudly announced, inviting attention from all the Bridge crew, who began applauding after following Nyota’s lead.

‘Oh, jeez,’ Jim blurted, face aglow, mock-glaring at Nyota’s distinctly amused expression. ‘Oh my God, ew, no, stop. You’re all so embarrassing.’

‘But you love us anyway,’ Chekov piped up, withering under Spock’s raised eyebrow.

Jim’s smile was sunny as he sat in his chair, despite the fact that he was rolling his eyes.

‘Yeah, luckily.’

He cast an affectionate gaze towards Spock, who received it with warmth, sending a gush of love across the bond and enjoying the way Jim’s hand tightened on the armrest of his chair. Sulu’s eyes flicked between them, lips twitching at the corners, but a pointed look from Spock had him spinning back round to face his station. Amusement flashed through the bond, before Jim addressed the whole Bridge, as animated as he ever was.

‘So, what’s everyone been up to?’

A clamour of voices overrode one another, Jim’s attention fought for in the way of children, but Spock did not disapprove. He was glad that the crew were so fond of Jim, and even more so, that Jim had been judged well enough to return to duty. While Spock was all too aware of how he continued to suffer, he was sure that Jim’s mental health would not have been aided by continuing to be off-duty. That being said, Jim’s healing was ongoing, and Spock was sure that there would be a lot of patience and effort required from them both. That would not be difficult for him. His t’hy’la deserved all the patience and effort in the world.

Spock spent the majority of the morning shift utilising Ensign Ferreira’s heat signature map to identify areas of possible encampment, although he knew that if Faeral had made his temporary home deep in the rock, it would be difficult to locate him. It was painstaking, and at times, incredibly frustrating, but it was worth the migraine-inducing effort for the opportunity to ease Jim’s mind. In his chair, Jim had a terrain map cast out in front of him, his emotions muted and unreadable as he highlighted certain areas and darkened others,

Amidst the monotony, Uhura’s voice rang out.

‘Captain, Prime Minister Eana would like to speak to you.’

Spock felt Jim’s spark of hope, then its dimming into resignation, in a matter of seconds. Abandoning the map for now, he stood and walked over to Jim as Eana appeared onscreen, attempting to reassure Jim by remaining at his side.

‘Captain; Commander,’ she greeted, nodding formally at Spock, who returned it, before turning back to Jim. ‘I am glad to see you back on duty, Captain.’

‘It’s good to be back,’ Jim said easily, his relaxed posture conveying a casualness not reflected by the grim anticipation Spock could sense in him. ‘Any news?’

She shook her head, a weary expression flitting over her stoic face.

‘Unfortunately nothing positive. I was hopeful that those followers that we captured would be able to tell us something about his whereabouts, but it appears that he simply abandoned them and ran with a chosen few. Coward.’

Spock entirely agreed, as did Jim, judging by the displeasure in his scowl.

‘So we’re back to the drawing board,’ he sighed, drumming his fingers against the armrest of the chair. ‘Are you making any progress with your search?’

‘We have sent a number of reconnaissance crews out, but none have yet been successful. Pirilia is somewhat of an oasis in the desert, if you understand the metaphor. The distance between it and our next largest city, Xalanthe, is large and difficult to traverse by foot. I am afraid that there is a multitude of places that Faeral could be hiding, and I simply haven’t the manpower to search it all at once. But your maps – those which were suggested by your Ensign Ferreira – they seem to be highlighting target areas, do they not?’

‘Spock’s the best person to answer that,’ Jim said warmly, casting him an audaciously loving look across the Bridge. ‘Commander?’

Returning his gaze – though perhaps slightly less conspicuously – Spock stood from his station, tugging down his tunic as he did so.

‘We have identified a number of areas in which a cluster of Euridians may be concealed, but that may just as easily be the home of a clutch of animals. We will share our data with you, of course, but as inventive as the maps are, they are not particularly specific. However, if I may…’

He stepped forwards, gesturing for the map in Jim’s hand, which was handed over without question. Inputting the coordinates he had memorised, he expanded the area to show a concentration of white light glowing dimly from within a craggy area of rock.

‘This looks to be an area of interest, especially as the heat recordings from the last several days do not show quite this intensity of light. It is, at least, worth investigation.’

‘I agree,’ Eana replied, beckoning an advisor over with her own map. ‘Please send across the coordinates, and I will send out a reconnaissance team. Other than that, and to continue to search in those places identified by my intelligence officers, I am afraid I have no more to offer at the moment.’

Spock exchanged a brief look with Jim, who had been watching him since the beginning of his demonstration, his fierce intelligence clear.

‘Us neither, unfortunately,’ Jim admitted, smiling gently at Spock. ‘Good work, Commander. Your whole department deserves a commendation.’

Spock gave him a short nod as he sat back down, secretly pleased by the praise. ‘Thank you, Captain. I will make certain your words are cascaded through the ranks.’

Jim’s soft smile widened, and while Spock was not ignorant of Sulu’s raised eyebrows, or Nyota’s quiet snigger, he did not care. Turning back to Eana, Jim regained his professional expression.

‘Please let us know if there’s anything we can do. Information sharing is crucial at this point.’

‘That is true,’ Eana agreed, her attention leaving Jim for a moment. ‘Before I go, I would like to thank you, Lieutenant, for your aid with the universal translator.’

Beside Spock, Nyota flushed, her hands folding in her lap. She made a sound somewhat akin to a whistle, in response to which Eana blinked, then smiled.

‘You learn quickly. It is… pleasant to hear our language spoken by an outworlder. I look forward to hearing about more of your work. Please contact me if there are any updates, Captain.’

‘Will do,’ Jim confirmed, and as soon as the comm ended, he half-lay across his chair to meet Uhura’s eye.

‘Guess who’s being nominated for the ‘Fleet Xenolinguistics Award again?’ he grinned, his voice carrying a decidedly teasing tone. ‘I feel like a proud dad.’

Despite her obvious pleasure at the nomination, Nyota scoffed, brandishing her stylus at him as she spoke.

‘We’re practically the same age. Also, you tried to pick me up in a bar once.’

‘I _feel,’_ Jim stressed, ignoring her entirely. His eyes were dancing with amusement, and Spock was glad of it, ‘like a _proud_ _dad.’_

‘Oh my God,’ she muttered, to which Jim let out a soft huff of laughter.

‘No, but seriously, well done,’ he said, slightly more soberly. ‘Keep up the good work.’

‘Thank you, Captain.’

Nyota rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Spock, who raised an eyebrow in response. In truth, he was pleased by how much the relationship between Jim and Nyota had changed, as animosity between them would have not only been uncomfortable for him, but depriving for the two of them. Preparing to return to a rather different kind of mapping than he was used to, Spock’s concentration was almost immediately interrupted by Nyota’s quiet exclamation of dismay.

‘Captain, the Admiralty is requesting an audience with you.’

Spock’s stomach dropped, and his superior hearing picked up Jim’s mutter of ‘Oh God’, coupled with a rush of irritation and foreboding that may very well have been a combination of their emotions rather than Jim’s own.

‘Well, let’s hope it’s Admiral Zhang,’ Jim quipped as he rose, his voice audibly strained. His eyes met Spock’s, and his silent request echoed through the bond. _Come with me?_

_Always, t’hy’la,_ Spock replied, standing as Jim handed the conn over to Lieutenant Sulu, and asked Nyota to patch the call down to his Ready Room. He followed his Captain, his beloved, into the turbolift, and watched his professional mask slip away as the doors closed.

‘Fuck,’ Jim breathed, his head bowing in defeat as his body slumped against the wall. ‘They’re gonna try and divert us, I know they are.’

‘If so, we will make our arguments against the decision,’ Spock soothed, cupping his cheek. ‘Ashaya, look at me.’

Jim slowly obeyed, and the uncertainty in his gaze had Spock brushing a kiss against his forehead, chaste and comforting in its intentions.

‘We must press the point that Faeral is a dangerous criminal, who not only is a threat to his people and ours, but also to Euridian’s membership of the Federation. Cold and greedy as it may seem, I am sure that the Admiralty will appreciate the diverse range of natural resources that will become free for trade should Euridian join us.’

‘Cold and greedy suits at least _some_ of Command just fine,’ Jim murmured, but his mood seemed to have improved. Fumbling for Spock’s free hand, he pressed a clumsy Vulcan kiss against his fingers as he leant up for a soft, open-mouthed human kiss, peeling away just as the doors of the turbolift opened. Slightly dazed, tongue darting out to savour the taste of Jim’s lips, Spock followed half a step behind, hoping, however illogically, that Command would see sense.

No sooner had they stepped into the Ready Room, the screen flickered to life, and not for the first time, Spock wondered if Nyota had some form of precognition. Seated behind a mahogany desk was Admiral Zhang, and despite his suspicions about the content of the call, Spock was, at least, slightly relieved. If there was an Admiral who would listen to reason, it would be Zhang.

‘Admiral,’ Jim greeted easily, though there was steel behind it. ‘What can I do for you?’

She appraised him with sharp eyes, but Spock noticed a strange cast to her expression – perhaps guilt?

‘Captain. Good to see you up and about. I’ll cut to the chase, seeing as you seem keen to get this over with. First of all, and this comes from myself rather than the collective, I want to truly apologise for the decision made by Command that led to your capture. I should have done more to stop it, whatever the impatience of my colleagues.’

She sounded sincere, but to Spock – and it seemed, to Jim also – it was too little, too late. Jim offered her a short nod, his expression hardly changing from the solemnity it carried.

‘Thank you, but I presume you’re calling for more than just apologies.’

Zhang gave Jim a long look, breaking it with a quiet huff, and a small, humourless smile, nodding with clear reluctance.

‘Astute as ever, Captain. Yes, unfortunately, I am. When you were first returned, Command was willing to provide you with time to apprehend your captor. However, time is ticking away, and there are other matters to attend to.'

There was a stillness in Jim that reminded Spock of an animal preparing itself to strike, and beneath the table, he put his hand on Jim’s thigh in an attempt to soothe him.

‘Is there a major diplomatic incident in a nearby system?’ Jim asked, voice clipped, and devoid of tone. ‘Have the Romulans entered the Neutral Zone? Has Earth issued a distress call?’

‘No,’ Admiral Zhang replied, ‘but the ship cannot be in orbit around Euridian forever.’

‘So, let me get this right,’ Jim began tightly, jaw ticking. ‘There is no current crisis occurring, but you want to pull me away for – what? – milk runs? I was sent down to Euridian on the orders of the Admiralty to establish diplomatic ties with a warring race, and despite the hell I’ve been dragged through, we’ve managed to create a good relationship with the current leaders. And now you want me to abandon all that? Who’s making these decisions?’

‘Captain,’ Zhang warned, her forehead creasing.

Jim shook his head, bite in his words. ‘With all due respect, Admiral, it was the rash decisions of Command that led to my capture and torture at the hands of a madman. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m questioning the rationality of their latest demands.’

Spock took up a slow stroking motion over his thigh – not intended to arouse, but to calm, and he was pleased when he found his hand taken in a gentle hold.

‘I understand that,’ Zhang conceded, which was more than Spock would have expected from the Admiralty. ‘And I understand your point-of-view, but as the flagship, you have responsibilities other than this.’

‘That _we_ understand,’ Spock interjected, running his thumb rhythmically over the back of Jim’s hand. ‘Yet until there is an emergency, or another important mission assigned to the ship, is it not a priority that we gain favour with the Euridian government by aiding them in their attempts to capture a tyrant? In addition to the advantage of close diplomatic ties with another race, Euridian has a range of natural resources that they may be willing to trade, and I assume that the Federation would see this as a matter of import.’

Zhang inhaled deeply, and in contrast to the apoplectic rage Spock knew some of the other Admirals would exhibit, she merely dipped her head in acknowledgement.

‘I can’t hold the others off forever, but I will do my best to delay them until you have apprehended Faeral. Is there anything else I should know?’

Jim looked to Spock, who felt both his nerves and his joy, trying to soothe them with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

_Go ahead, t’hy’la._

‘Commander Spock and I have recently begun a relationship,’ Jim told her, finally tearing his eyes from Spock. ‘I know we would have needed to declare it soon, so while we had the opportunity…’

Zhang’s eyebrows lifted, and she sat back in her chair, blinking. Jim’s nerves roared back to life in the bond, and despite his own creeping anxiety, Spock tried to repress it, for Jim’s sake. There were no explicit regulations prohibiting relationships between officers one rank apart, but it was certainly not encouraged.

‘Congratulations for the relationship, but damn you for the paperwork,’ Admiral Zhang eventually replied, running a hand back through her hair. ‘I presume you will already have thought about the possibility of emotional compromise?’

They nodded as one, and Zhang did also, drawing a padd on her desk towards her.

‘I can’t promise the others will be as calm about it as I am, but you will have to weather that storm together. I would advise that you put all your efforts into finding Faeral as quickly as possible.’

‘Of course, Admiral,’ Jim agreed, and Spock muttered his own similar reply.

‘Very good. Zhang out.’

The screen went dark, and Jim exhaled raggedly, throwing his arms around Spock’s neck. Spock received him gratefully, cradling the back of that golden head and worrying the thick hair with his fingers.

‘That could have gone better,’ Jim said, voice muffled by Spock’s shoulder, ‘but it could also have gone a lot worse.’

Spock nodded, brushing a kiss over his crown.

‘I am grateful that we do not need to lie to Command, but Faeral is far more of a pressing issue. I hope that Eana’s intelligence officers pinpoint him soon.’

‘Me too. We should really tell the others about us.’

Spock pulled back slightly, brushing Jim’s hair back from his face. There was no uncertainty there, and when Spock considered it, he didn’t take long to draw a conclusion.

‘I agree,’ he said warmly. ‘Perhaps a meeting after Alpha shift?’

‘Good idea,’ Jim murmured, leaning in for a gentle kiss. ‘Mmm, we should go back.’

‘Yes,’ Spock said with some reluctance. While he enjoyed his work, he enjoyed his t’hy’la far more. ‘There will be time alone later.’

‘Thankfully,’ Jim smiled, a glint in his eye as he led Spock back out of his Ready Room, making for the Bridge.

The meeting was called for after Alpha shift, and the remainder of the day was spent with the various maps created by the Science department and Eana’s people, scouring the harsh Pirilian landscape for signs of life in the wilderness. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Spock occasionally found his mind drifting towards Jim, and the promise of their future together. Whilst he would have waited forever for Jim to become ready to make love, last night had been wonderful, and he was pleased that his beloved had felt safe enough to welcome his touch. He was keenly aware of how big a step that had been for Jim to take, and though he hoped that they would be able to continue sharing their love physically, he did not expect Jim’s trauma to have disappeared all at once. His affection for Jim was unconditional, and if he did not wish to have intercourse again, Spock would respect that choice.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Jim’s emotions changed course in the bond, but not negatively, as Spock expected. He turned his head from where he was bent over the scanner, to find Jim’s eyes travelling covetously over his body, arousal passing across the bond as Jim’s tongue darted over his lower lip. Spock attempted to contain himself, attempted to hold back his own deep desire, but the knowledge that Jim wanted him, and the anticipation of a marriage bond left Spock so excited that he was forced to sit to hide an emerging erection.

He turned his burning face back to his station, but it was too late to hide from his fiancé – Jim was clearly delighted. He rose from his chair and although Spock ignored his approach, he could hear him coming, satisfaction even in the tread of his boots. Hot breath ghosted across his ear, and Spock shivered, astounded by how close he was to release just from feeling Jim’s desire for him.

‘I’ll take care of you later, baby,’ Jim breathed, squeezing his shoulder in a way that might have looked innocent, but felt far less so. ‘I promise.’

Spock could not reply, paralysed by his own arousal, and anxious that someone would hear if he did. Instead, he gave Jim a look that promised retribution, and turned back to his calculations without a word, concentrating on calming his erection.

After he had settled himself, fortunately, there were no more incidents that afternoon, but unfortunately, there were no updates on the Faeral situation either. Spock was becoming increasingly desperate to apprehend him, for Jim’s sake as much as for the Euridians. He wanted his Jim to have peace of mind, and to feel as if those who had tortured him were being punished, as well as to satisfy his own primal urge to hunt down the one who had hurt his mate. At last, the time came for the meeting Jim had called, and once they had entered the Ready Room, the primary Bridge crew, Doctor McCoy, and Mister Scott trailed in after them, eyeing them curiously. That is, all but one of the attendees were.

‘Is this going to take long?’ Leonard complained, dropping heavily into his chair. ‘I gotta kid down there with some form of Tarkalian ’flu, and I don’t want him spreadin’ it all over the damn ship.’

‘Not very long,’ Jim said pleasantly. ‘I should think you’d be grateful for some time away from all the snot.’

McCoy merely scowled, but waved his hand vaguely in assent.

‘We appreciate your permission to begin, Doctor,’ Spock deadpanned, and Jim held his palm up at Leonard before he could snap back.

‘C’mon, guys, enough. This meeting isn’t duty-related, so you can all relax, okay?’

‘If it’s not duty, then what is it about?’ Sulu asked, leaning his head on his hand.

Jim turned to Spock who encouraged him with a gentle push of affection through the bond, unable to show his true emotions in public.

‘Well, we just wanted to let those of you who don’t already know that Spock and I are in a relationship.’

There was dead silence after his words, and Spock surveyed the group to find out the cause. Nyota and Leonard were smiling – the latter crookedly so – while Sulu and Scott were sat with a smirk and raised eyebrows respectively, looking rather unaffected. Only Chekov seemed surprised, eyes wide, and mouth open. Spock frowned.

‘You were already aware.’

He cast an accusatory look towards Nyota, then Leonard, both of whom categorically denied any wrongdoing.

‘I didn’t say anything to anyone, I promise.’

‘Me neither, but I’m not surprised these lot already cottoned on.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jim asked, and Spock eyed Leonard as curiously as he was, certain that they had been at least somewhat discreet.

‘No offence, Captain,’ Mister Scott replied, ‘but we’ve got eyes.’

He broke into a grin as Spock raised an eyebrow, and Jim went pink, a shy smile crossing his face that Spock wished to kiss away.

‘Well, this all seems a little dramatic now.’

‘I did not know, Keptin,’ Chekov announced, looking vaguely shell-shocked. ‘But I am happy for you,’

A chorus of agreements overlapped one another, and Jim waved them off, his shy smile transforming into a beaming grin at the attention.

‘All right, all right, calm down. Thank you, from both of us.’

He turned to Spock, beautiful with his flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and Spock fought hard not to display his affection publically.

‘Indeed.’

After the ‘meeting’ ended, he and Jim were dragged to the mess by their colleagues and friends, and were mocked rather mercilessly throughout their meal. Spock did not mind, far too in love and assured of Jim’s affection to be embarrassed, and judging by his quick-witted repartees, Jim did not either. It took a remarkably long time to separate themselves from the group, and although Spock appreciated their loyalty and friendship, he was pleased to be alone with Jim once more. Jim, who seemed to have an agenda that evening.

No sooner had the doors closed behind them than Jim lunged at him, throwing his arms around his neck as he leant up for a fierce kiss, and Spock pulled him against his chest, revelling in the way their bodies fit so perfectly together. Jim’s heat was intoxicating, his lips and tongue mapping out Spock’s mouth with clumsy passion, and Spock found himself moaning freely, shaking hands sliding over the powerful, shifting muscles of Jim’s back and shoulders. He wished to do the same on naked skin, wished to touch and kiss and suck and make Jim cry out in pleasure, but even in the haze of his arousal, he knew not to presume consent.

‘Jim,’ he said hoarsely, arching into the mouth at his neck with a bitten-off groan. ‘Beloved, are you- is this acceptable?’

Jim pulled back for a moment, panting, his pupils blown wide.

‘Yes,’ he breathed, eyes flicking uncertainly up to Spock’s own. ‘I-I want you. And I can’t promise that I won’t freak out at any point, but I’m going to try not to. I mean – unless – do you wanna stop?’

‘No, k’diwa,’ Spock said tenderly, cupping his cheek. ‘I want you just as badly.’

He drew Jim in for a slow, deep kiss, shivering in delight at the soft mewl that left Jim’s mouth, and the play of Jim’s fingers under the hem of his shirts.

‘Off?’ Jim murmured between kisses, and together, with difficulty, they stripped Spock to the waist. ‘God, look at you. You’re so gorgeous.’

His hands were trembling, but Spock could sense only arousal from him as he petted at the thick hair covering Spock’s chest and stomach, reaching up to unceremoniously tug off his own shirts. Spock helped him, blatantly staring at the sculpted muscle of his chest and shoulders, and the softly rounded stomach, contrasting, and yet combining to form the most attractive figure Spock had ever seen.

‘You are a vision,’ he murmured, trailing his fingers down a solid pectoral, and revelling in the soft gasp Jim made as he gently tweaked a nipple. Taking Jim’s hand, he led him over to the bed, and knelt before him as he sat on the edge, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat as he went. ‘My James.’

He leant forward and licked a long stripe over one of Jim’s nipples, eliciting a shudder, and when he took it into his mouth, suckling softly, Jim moaned, sliding a hand into his hair. Feeling a flood of desire that was only partially his own, he flicked his tongue over the nub and sucked harder, his hand rising to worry at Jim’s other nipple. He could feel his penis thickening in his pants, the ache there intensifying as Jim cried out, hips rolling into nothing as Spock drew away only to swap over, finger and thumb sliding wetly around the pink, newly-swollen nub.

_‘Spock,_ oh God-’

Spock drew back as Jim tugged insistently at his hair, rising to be met with a passionate kiss which stole his breath, Jim’s hands fumbling with his belt.

‘Is this okay, baby?’

‘Yes, Jim, please,’ Spock begged, bucking into the fingers trailing over his swelling erection. His underwear was beginning to become uncomfortably wet, soaking through with the natural lubricant Jim was coaxing from him, and he felt as much as heard Jim’s groan as his pants dropped to the floor.

‘God, honey,’ Jim said breathily, cupping him through his boxer shorts. ‘You’re so wet. Can I take these off?’

Spock nodded, helpless against his rising tide of arousal as Jim pushed him gently down against the bed, carelessly tugging off the rest of his own clothing before turning his attention to Spock’s underwear. He nuzzled against the skin just above the waistband that made Spock shiver, then slowly pulled the boxer shorts down, discarding them on the floor. He stared without shame at the weeping erection that was revealed, forest-green and drooling precome, and Spock flushed, overriding the instinct to close his legs as Jim leant down to brush a kiss against the head.

‘Is this all right, sweetie?’ Jim asked, taking him in hand, and watching intently as the slow glide of his hand produced a thick drop of precome.

_Yes,_ _t’hy’la._

Jim dragged the flat of his tongue over the wetness pooling at the tip of his erection, and Spock moaned breathlessly, hips rocking into Jim’s mouth as Jim made a muffled sound of pleasure that reverberated deliciously through him. He pulled away for a moment, before returning enthusiastically to his task, drawing the head of Spock’s erection into his mouth. Spock’s chest rose and fell in breathless little gasps as Jim sucked hungrily, flicking his tongue in between the ridges of his erection in a way that made heat coil in his stomach.

‘K’diwa,’ he moaned, hips twitching and knees drawing up as Jim took him in a little further, mouth warm and wet and glorious. ‘Jim, I-I need-’

Perhaps sensing his desire, Jim reached up to gently squeeze his testicles, rolling them in their tightened sac, and Spock cried out. Although conscious not to hurt Jim in his enthusiasm, he could not prevent the stuttering of his hips as waves of pleasure began to consume him, tightening and releasing in a glorious rhythm until, at last, it reached a peak.

_‘Jim!’_

He came into Jim’s wiling mouth with a wail, hand tightening reflexively in the bedsheets as he was wracked with pleasure, overwhelmed by the sight of Jim sucking him. His breathing was interspersed with soft moans as the afterglow set in, and he lay back against the pillows, limp.

‘Good?’ Jim asked innocently, licking a droplet from his lower lip as he rose up his body. The sight overwhelmed Spock anew, and he found he could not speak for a moment, so he nodded instead, sure that his satisfaction and his love was written across his face. Jim’s expression softened, and he leant down to kiss Spock sweetly, the kiss untouched by the fervent arousal Spock knew he must be feeling. When they parted, Spock looked to Jim for permission before reaching for his swollen penis, flushed a deep red and leaking liberally. Jim’s breath caught as Spock wrapped his hand around it, gently stroking him from root to tip, before holding still.

‘What would you like, ashaya?’ he asked softly, his own penis twitching anew at the heat and the pulse of life beneath his fingers.

‘Anything,’ Jim said hoarsely, eyes falling briefly closed at the touch of Spock’s hand. ‘Your hand, your mouth, anything.’

Spock hesitated for a few seconds before suggesting, ‘Would you like to be inside me?’

Jim’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at Spock, a throb running tangibly through his erection.

‘Only- only if you want that too, sweetheart. I’d never, _ever_ try and push that on you.’

‘I know,’ Spock said warmly, caressing his cheek. ‘But I do want that, Jim. So very much.’

Jim shivered, and he bent to press a few soft, chaste kisses against Spock’s lips.

‘If you feel uncomfortable with _anything,_ I want you to tell me. And if… if I…’

‘The same goes for you, t’hy’la,’ Spock murmured, holding him close. ‘If you wish to stop, we will stop.’

Jim gave him a beautiful, shaky smile, before bending to nuzzle against his neck, taking his earlobe gently between his teeth and worrying it. Spock squirmed, tilting his head to allow Jim access to the point of his ear, which sent sparks of pleasure down through him as it was suckled upon, Jim’s talented mouth moving next to his pulse point. Spock sighed as Jim left love marks at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and mewled as his nipples were kissed and sucked until they were sensitive enough that every brush against them made him shudder. By the time Jim’s thorough exploration reached his stomach, his cock was standing at attention once again, and Jim gave it a quick lick that made his breath catch, before moving even further down his body. Spock wasn’t sure what to think when Jim gently pushed his legs open wider, his heart racing in anticipation of the ecstasy his t’hy’la was so adept at bringing upon him.

‘Remember, hon, you can stop me at any time,’ Jim reminded him, dragging his tongue over Spock’s perineum in a way that made him gasp. ‘I think you’ll like this, though.’

Spock felt himself being spread open, his face burning at the exposure, though Jim’s flood of arousal in the bond eased most of his embarrassment. The first drag of Jim’s tongue over his hole surprised him, and he let out a squeak that quickly morphed into a long, low moan as Jim took to lapping against him, soft, slow strokes of his tongue making Spock’s renewed erection twitch. He was certain at this point that some of his natural lubricant was seeping down over his sac, which was soon confirmed by Jim’s ragged moan, and the warmth of the liquid flowing over sensitive skin.

‘Fuck, baby,’ Jim mumbled, returning to his task with the aplomb of a man dying of thirst, and Spock whimpered as his tongue pressed gently inside of him, moving within him like he hoped Jim’s cock would soon be doing. He whined in protest as Jim’s tongue eventually withdrew, feeling open and empty, but Jim’s quiet murmur of reassurance and the hasty retrieval of a bottle of lubricant from a bedside drawer. The quiet snap of the bottle sobered Spock slightly, yet although he had never previously been penetrated – and this would be his first experience of full intercourse in any fashion – he was not afraid. He knew that Jim would never willingly hurt him.

There was a question in Jim’s eyes as he slicked his fingers with the lubricant, and Spock nodded, offering him a slight smile, and relaxing into the bed as the pad of one of Jim’s fingers stroked over his hole.

‘Is this what you want, love?’

‘Yes,’ Spock hissed out between his teeth, lifting his hips until the tip of that finger was penetrating him.

‘Bossy,’ Jim teased, their connection full of indulgent affection on top of the ever-present arousal as he leant forward to kiss him softly. ‘All right, love.’

Coming to lie beside him, Jim reached back between his legs and gently pushed his finger inside him to his first knuckle. Spock’s breath shuddered from him, but he still bore down, in no pain from the careful work of Jim’s tongue. Before long, Jim’s finger was slipping in and out of him easily, and when he gave his assent, a second was inserted, a slight discomfort there, but nothing serious. Jim was watching him intently, close enough that they could kiss one another, and Spock could not help but steal one as Jim began to scissor his fingers, the tip of one grazing against a spot that set his desire alight. He broke the kiss with a throaty moan, clutching Jim for dear life as his prostate was stroked ruthlessly, quick little jabs and slow caresses quickening his breath and pooling heat in his groin.

‘Jim,’ he said breathily, the slight burn of a third finger eclipsed entirely by the intensity of his pleasure. ‘Oh, Jim, please!’

‘Yes, darling, that’s it,’ Jim murmured, peppering kisses against his mouth to which he barely had the presence of mind to respond. ‘You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, t’hy’la?’

Spock whined, his breath laboured and heart racing as he bucked into Jim’s hand, working his way furiously towards orgasm. Jim nuzzled into the space beneath his jaw, licked up the curve of his ear, but it was the sensation of warm lips suckling on the point of his ear along with a particularly skilled stroke against his prostate that brought Spock to climax. The tight coil in his stomach unwound all at once in a rush of heavenly relief, and Spock cried out, blind with pleasure as Jim crooned sweet encouragement into his ear, milking him gently. Jim’s fingers moved inside him until he squirmed away, too sensitive for touch, and lay back against the pillows, pulling Jim against him. Jim held him tight, hands stroking smoothly over his back, yet while there was no urgency in his movements, Spock could feel the heat of his untended arousal against his thigh, and winced in sympathy.

‘Come inside me, taluhk,’ he murmured, kissing the hinge of his jaw. ‘I want to make love with you.’

‘I want that too,’ Jim smiled, pulling back from their embrace enough to lay a soft kiss against his lips. He looked as if he were about to speak, but then visibly hesitated, the look in his eyes matching the anxiety in the bond.

‘Do you wish to stop, beloved?’ Spock asked immediately, conscious that he may be experiencing trauma.

Jim shook his head, a tiny crease appearing in his forehead.

‘I… do you remember when you asked me to bond with you?’

Spock’s heart thudded, a rush of warmth overtaking him at the memory.

‘Of course,’ he said softly, taking his hand.

‘Well, I was wondering,’ Jim said shakily, stroking his fingers. ‘I-I’m not sure if you want a ceremony or something, but if not… could you- would you bond us tonight?’

Spock’s breath caught, hope and joy suffusing him as he reached up to cup Jim’s cheek. Strangely, his eyes stung, but he was not ashamed of emoting in front of his betrothed.

‘If that is what you wish, k'hat'n'dlawa, nothing would please me more.’

Tears welled in Jim’s eyes, and he bent to take Spock’s lips in a tender kiss, the love that suffused their connection making Spock’s chest ache.

‘James,’ he gasped, pulling away with a ragged inhale. ‘I need you.’

‘Yes,’ Jim rasped, sitting up in such a way that his cock was proudly on display, thick and swollen against his stomach. ‘Should I- should I get a condom? I’m clean, but I don’t mind.’

Spock shook his head, feeling his face burn as he reached for him.

‘I want to feel you,’ he breathed, pulling him down for an eager kiss as the lubricant was retrieved. He arched into Jim’s hand as those clever, slick fingers penetrated him once more, his cock once more filling out at the thought of bonding with his beloved.

‘Fuck, how are you erect again so quickly?’ Jim asked, desire burning in his question.

‘Vulcans do not have a refractory period,’ Spock said breathlessly, a choked-off moan forcing its way from his throat as Jim massaged his prostate. ‘And you, my t’hy’la, are enough stimulation to arouse me permanently.’

‘Permanently, huh?’ Jim grinned, but his smile faltered as Spock poured lubricant into his own hand and took hold of his erection. Both of them moaned as Jim pushed through the hole formed by his slick fingers, panting heavily. ‘Please, baby, I’ll come.’

Spock let go reluctantly, letting himself relax into the duvet as Jim rose above him, settling between his legs.

‘You want this?’

‘Yes,’ Spock whispered, tugging him down until their foreheads were touching. ‘I want you. I love you, James.’

‘Love you too,’ Jim replied, a smile spreading slowly across his face. ‘If you want to stop, let me know.’

Gently, he pushed forwards, and Spock tried hard to relax as he felt a slight discomfort at the intrusion, aroused by Jim’s ragged sigh and the look of ecstasy across his face as he pushed in to the hilt.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ Jim asked, strain clear in his voice as pleasure spread through the bond.

‘I am not in pain,’ Spock assured him, slowly undulating his hips to test the waters. Jim let out a sob as he bore down, habituating himself to the sensation of being filled so entirely. ‘Move, Jim. You have restrained yourself all evening.’

‘Won’t hurt you,’ Jim insisted, but he began rocking his hips carefully, a low moan escaping him as Spock wrapped his arms around him, stroking over powerful, sweat-slick muscles. Being fucked so gently was arousing in itself, but even more so was the way Jim unerringly teased his prostate, igniting a slow burn of pleasure that had him gasping. A desperate mewl was forced from his throat at a particularly well-aimed thrust, and he wiped the smug look off Jim’s face with a clumsy kiss, his excitement doubled by feeling Jim’s ecstasy at being inside him.

‘Jim,’ he choked, eyes rolling back as Jim sucked a mark just above his collarbone. ‘Jim, please.’

‘I know, love,’ Jim crooned, hitching his knees higher around his waist as he began a series of slow, deep thrusts that stole the breath from Spock’s lungs. ‘I’ve got you.’

Spock had abandoned his controls long ago; he knew his face was contorted in ecstasy, and his whimpering might have been embarrassing to him at any other time, but he could feel how much his reactions were arousing Jim, and that was reason enough to allow himself to let go. His hand rose to Jim’s face, a silent, desperate plea passing between them as their mutual ecstasy built.

‘Yes, darling,’ Jim panted, a lock of hair falling into his face as he panted. ‘Bond us, Spock.’

Their joining felt like coming home. Their t’hy’la bond had been clamouring for a full union since Spock had recognised it for what it was, and as the meld took effortlessly, Spock allowed the remainder of the walls he had upheld for so long to crumble into dust. The glow of their golden bond brightened until it was blinding, and a sudden flash of euphoric light, they fell together, their brand new bond shining beautifully through the darkness. Spock could see Jim for who he truly was, could see his torn edges and his pure heart and everything in between, and he knew that he too was naked before his adun, stripped as bare as he was on the physical plane, and never happier to be so.

_T’hy’la t’nash-veh, adun t’nash-veh, taluhk nash-veh k’dular._

Returning to his own body was startling, but the loss he might once have felt was removed by the presence of their marriage bond, and the knowledge that they now belonged to one another entirely. Spock felt possessive and possessed, Jim’s boundless love surrounding him from within, soothing the hurt and rejection of the past, and the part of Spock that had yearned for his mate for so long was hopelessly aroused. Jim was above him, each breath heralding a high-pitched moan as he rocked towards completion, his hand tugging slickly at Spock’s erection. Spock didn’t know whether to push forward into Jim’s hand or backwards into his cock, the rhythmic thrusting against his prostate tearing a cry from his throat as pleasure pulsed through him. Climax was approaching with such intensity it was almost frightening, and the thought had barely crossed his mind before Jim was slowing despite clearly being at the edge of his limit.

‘Honey, do you-’

‘T’hy’la, please don’t stop,’ Spock begged, a burning pleasure taking hold in his groin as he urged him back to his previous pace, impaling himself desperately on Jim’s cock. ‘I need you.’

Jim shuddered, kissing Spock fiercely as he picked up speed once more, limbs trembling and rhythm faltering.

_Come, adun,_ Spock encouraged, breaking away to see Jim’s pupils blown wide, and his swollen mouth open in an ‘O’. _Come for me._

A whine tore from Jim’s throat as he hammered into Spock, desperation in his eyes, and when Spock clenched deliberately around his cock, he choked on his breath, fingers tightening around Spock’s erection.

‘Oh God, _ohGodohGod, Spock!’_

His cry was so loud it was almost a scream, and knowing that he had pleasured his partner so well was as arousing to Spock as the rush of come inside him, his ecstasy igniting Spock’s own.

‘Jim,’ he whimpered, riding him desperately as he teetered on the edge of orgasm.

‘I’ve got you, darling.’

With deep satisfaction in his eyes, Jim took hold of Spock’s hand to raise it to his mouth, sucking in two of his fingers, and Spock could not hold back any longer. He sobbed out his release, twitching and overstimulated as he spurted thickly onto Jim’s stomach, Jim’s name falling ecstatically from his lips. Sensitive as he was from two previous orgasms, the pleasure seemed to go on forever, and he trembled through intense aftershocks, gasping for breath. Jim held him throughout, whispering sweetly to him as he shook, but eventually, the pleasure subsided, and Spock pulled Jim down into a lingering kiss. They parted slowly, and Jim murmured a tender apology to him as he pulled out, the slight sting barely notable.

‘Are you all right?’ Jim asked quietly, making to stand. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

‘No,’ Spock assured him, watching him retrieve a cloth and towel from the fresher. ‘There is some minor discomfort, but nothing more than expected.’

Jim smiled softly, beginning to run the cloth over his stomach and down between his legs.

‘I’m glad. Bear down for me, love?’

Spock averted his gaze as he obliged, heat flooding to his cheeks.

_There’s nothing to be ashamed of, ’shaya. I just want you to be comfortable after we’ve made love, that’s all._

Jim’s use of the bond to speak pleased him, and he offered him a Vulcan kiss once the cloth and towel had been discarded, and was glad that Jim returned it with enthusiasm.

‘So, are we Vulcan-married now?’ he asked, coming to stand by the bed. Although they had only just made love, Spock could not help but cast an appreciative eye over his magnificent body, pleased that Jim was comfortable enough to be unclothed around him.

‘We are,’ Spock said softly, joy overtaking him. ‘And I am very pleased to call you my bondmate.’

‘So am I,’ Jim smiled, something like a nervous laugh escaping. ‘Spock, I… I should probably put clothes on to do this.’

Spock frowned, sitting up on his elbows.

‘You may wear one of my robes if you wish, but what do you mean, t’hy’la?’

‘Thanks,’ Jim smiled, a frisson of nervousness making its way through their new bond as he shrugged into one of Spock’s robes. ‘Mm, this is nice. It smells like you.’

He tied the belt loosely, and Spock was mildly disappointed as his beautiful body was hidden from view. He watched, bewildered, as Jim returned to sit on the bed, a shaking hand reaching out to caress Spock’s face.

‘I love you, Spock.’

‘And I you, k’diwa,’ Spock said warmly, the feeling curling through him even as his curiosity grew.

‘I’ve, uh, I’ve wanted to do this for a while,’ Jim admitted, taking hold of his hand. ‘You’ve given me so much, and I still can’t believe that you want me. My whole life, I’ve been dragged through the dirt, and here you are, loving me so fiercely. I’m so happy you bonded us, Spock. I’m so happy to be yours, and I hope you’ll want me to be yours in this way too.’

He slid off the bed, and manoeuvred himself onto one knee, the robe hanging in such a way that he might’nt have bothered wearing it.

‘Spock, ashal-veh, will you marry me?’

Tears sprung unexpectedly to Spock’s eyes, and he choked on his assent as he reached for Jim, kissing him soundly. Feeling their mutual happiness was a sensation unlike anything he had anticipated, the bright, beautiful swirl of emotion a joy in itself, and when they parted, Spock took his face between his hands.

‘I did not articulate myself particularly well,’ he said quietly, lips quirking into a smile. ‘That was a most enthusiastic ‘yes’, if you have not already realised.’

‘I had,’ Jim grinned, untying the robe and laying it on the bedside table as he came to lie beside him, ‘and I’m so grateful, sweetheart.’

He took Spock’s hand in his, sliding finger and thumb up his ring finger in a way that made Spock shiver.

‘Will you wear a ring for me? I think Ensign Xrat will be able to make them for us.’

Vulcans did not habitually wear rings, but if it pleased his adun, then Spock was willing to do almost anything.

‘Of course, t’hy’la,’ he agreed, earning another soft kiss. Sensing Jim’s fatigue, he called the lights down, and in the dim light, he reached for his new husband, who folded him warmly against his chest. ‘I am so very proud of you, Jim. I am proud that you have overcome so much adversity to be the leader that you are, and I am proud that you have relived your traumas, and have remained intact. I know that there are likely to be problems to come, and I know that making love to you does not mean that you are entirely healed, but I promise that I will be by your side throughout any challenges that you may face. Always.’

There was no response from Jim, bar the deluge of gratitude, affection, and pain through the bond. Spock only held him tighter, laying his head over the steady thump of a human heart, and rejoicing in the way Jim nuzzled into his crown, surrounding him completely. And if Spock felt wetness against his hair, he did not say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty intense, right? I'd love to know what you guys think, so please leave me a comment below if you can! You can catch me over [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain+of+his+soul/) at my tumblr if you'd like, and I've linked you to the COHS tag where I post updates about when the next chapter will be coming. If you can reblog my fic posts, that would be great :) Please let me know what you think, and I hope you all have a great weekend!


	21. You Explained The Infinite

‘I’m so glad we’re on Beta today.’

Jim, feeling slightly drunk on love, and enamoured of their marriage bond, curled into his new bondmate. He’d woken up first for once, mesmerised by the loveliness of Spock’s sleeping face, peaceful in his rest. Careful not to wake him, he’d traced the perfect upswept brows and the gentle point of his ear, and admired the high cheekbones and rounded nose, far softer than Jim had ever before seen in a Vulcan, but far more attractive, he thought. Spock had woken without fuss, the quiet buzz of his consciousness coming alive in the bond, and Jim had kissed him thoroughly, murmuring the words against his lips.

‘I agree,’ Spock replied softly, that lovely, tiny smile gracing his lips. ‘I do not think that I would be able to concentrate.’

His hand slid into Jim’s hair, and he pulled him back down for a slow, deep kiss, the feedback through their connection so arousing that Jim found himself rocking against him, naked skin sliding deliciously together. When Spock reached down to take him in hand, something about the movement flicked on an alarm in his head, and he flinched, displacing Spock’s hands immediately.

‘It is only me, beloved,’ Spock soothed, drawing him into a loose embrace. ‘I will not force you.’

Once his pounding heart had slowed, Jim had the presence of mind to feel ashamed; he tried to begin apologising, but Spock gently rebuffed him.

‘There is nothing to be sorry for, my Jim. I understand.’

‘It was just a blip,’ Jim insisted, extricating himself with a soft kiss. He took Spock’s hand in his and guided it back to his erection. _Touch me._

Spock’s arousal was powerful, dominating their connection in a way that stole Jim’s breath, but still he hesitated until Jim took him in hand as well, tearing a moan from his throat.

_That’s it, sweetheart,_ Jim murmured, loving the growing flush over his cheeks and ears as he began to stroke him. _Enjoy it._

He had a second or two to enjoy the pleasure he was giving before Spock reciprocated, and his concentration waned as a cool hand tugged at his aching cock in just the right way, Spock’s thumb rubbing slowly at his frenulum. He curled into Spock’s chest with a shaky sigh, a whimper catching in his throat as Spock’s other hand dropped to squeeze gently at his sac. Wanting to give his new fiancé as much pleasure as he was receiving, Jim leant up to suck a mark just above Spock’s collarbone, enjoying the mewl elicited when he let his thumb play in the precome leaking liberally from the head. It wasn’t long before his whole hand was wet with it, Spock’s hips rocking rhythmically into him as he began stroking him faster, aroused by the filthy sound of the lubricated friction between their bodies.

‘Spock,’ he heard himself plead, his voice wavering as Spock twisted his hand on an upstroke. ‘I’m going to come.’

Orgasm had crept up on him, and when Spock guided him up for a clumsy kiss, each of them panting desperately into the other’s mouth, the heat coiling in him unravelled all at once. He moaned into Spock’s mouth as he spilled into his hand, hips jabbing instinctually as he rode out his climax, shuddering in ecstasy. The hand on Spock’s erection had not stopped its movements, but it had faltered during orgasm, so he concentrated anew, determined to make Spock feel as good as he could. He mouthed gently at a nipple, flicking his tongue over the hard little nub, then withdrew to watch Spock’s face as the bond signified his approaching orgasm. Little whimpers were escaping his soft, lax pink lips, his eyes hazy and unfocused, and as he writhed, his cock drooled copiously into Jim’s hand. Jim had never seen anything more beautiful.

‘So lovely, sweetheart,’ he breathed, tightening his grip and reaching down to lace their fingers together. ‘Are you going to come for me?’

‘Yes,’ Spock panted, his hips lifting off the mattress. ‘Oh! Oh, _Jim!’_

The bond burst with pleasure as he came with a sob, spurting over Jim’s hand and his own stomach, and Jim made sure to milk him of every last drop before letting go in order to hold him. Spock, warm and relaxed in the afterglow, cuddled into him endearingly.

‘Have I told you that I love you yet this morning?’ Jim asked quietly, bursting with affection for him.

‘You have now,’ Spock pointed out, rolling to lay atop him with his arms folded beneath his chin. He was obviously resting some of his weight on his knees and elbows, seeing as Jim wasn’t being crushed, but he appreciated the warm weight of him nonetheless. ‘I love you too, adun.’

Jim shivered, the word making his spent cock twitch against his thigh.

‘You know that makes me hot.’

Spock’s lips curved into a tiny, smug smile.

‘I do.’

‘Then again, you’re not unaffected either, are you, _adun?’_

A flush of green appeared at the apex of Spock’s cheeks, and Jim laughed quietly, pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips.

‘Mhm, you’re a married man, Mister Spock.’

‘And a fiancé too, it seems,’ Spock said softly, reminding him with a flush of joy of his proposal last night.

‘That you are,’ Jim smiled, raising Spock’s hand to his lips and gently kissing the finger on which his ring would soon be. ‘As soon as I can get the rings sorted, I will.’

Spock’s mouth opened, but he visibly hesitated before speaking.

‘I may have something which will help with that, but I would like us to be clean first.’

Jim looked down at the semen drying on their bodies and the duvet, and nodded.

‘Yep, good idea. We’re kind of gross right now.’

Despite Jim holding the galaxy record for shortest time to get ready in the morning, clean-up took far longer than expected, simply because neither of them could stop touching one another. Jim loved the soothing presence of the new bond and the ease with which he could now communicate with Spock, both using words and sharing feelings. Knowing how much his touch affected Spock was addictive, and he was certain that Spock felt the same, considering his constant nearness.

_I apologise if I am irritating you, taluhk-veh. The new bond demands proximity, and that I watch over you at all times. In a few days, the feeling should dissipate slightly, but please, do not send me away._

_I won’t, love,_ Jim soothed, turning from where he was finishing up changing the sheets to slide his arms round Spock’s neck. _I like it, and I love you._

_And I you,_ Spock replied, kissing him sweetly. _I have something to show you._

He drew away, and Jim felt his loss even as he left for his own quarters, unsettled by his own need for contact. Still, they’d been through this before, so at least he knew that it should dissipate soon. He felt a lot better nonetheless when Spock returned, holding something tightly in his hand. Jim watched curiously as he opened it to reveal an assortment of shining silver-coloured jewellery, obviously well looked-after.

‘These belonged to my mother,’ Spock said quietly, and Jim felt a swell of emotion that was not only his own, all too aware of the reverence with which the jewellery would need to be treated. ‘The necklace and bracelet, she was wearing when she perished, but she gave her engagement ring to me long ago. She said that if I were ever to marry, I could use it to create jewellery to present to my betrothed. I will speak to my father to ask his permission first, but I would be honoured if you would use the silver to have new rings created for us.’

Overwhelmed, Jim took it gently from his hand, raising it to the light and admiring the shine.

‘Would- would you not prefer to keep it, to remember your mom?’

Spock shook his head, his emotions in the bond bittersweet.

‘I will respect my father’s wishes if he disagrees, but I believe that this is what my mother would want. She would often say that material possessions mean nothing compared to family, and we are building a family, my Jim.’

Jim’s traitorous eyes welled, and he leant up to press a soft kiss to Spock’s lips, laying the ring carefully back in Spock’s palm.

‘I would love to,’ he whispered, gently closing Spock’s fingers around the ring. ‘Let’s see what your dad says first, yeah?’

‘Of course,’ Spock said warmly, turning to place the jewellery reverently back in the intricately-carved wooden box in which it lived.

While Spock set up breakfast for them, Jim checked in with the Bridge, disappointed, but not surprised, to hear that there had been no new developments overnight. He hated being on edge all the time, but even more so, entertaining the possibility that Faeral might never be caught. He felt sick to his stomach as he imagined being sent away, leaving that tyrant to terrorise the planet, and never getting justice for himself. Not that that mattered compared to the suffering of a whole species.

Spock had laid out a plate of toast and fruit for himself, and scrambled eggs on toast and a banana for Jim, and Jim thanked him with a grateful smile. He hadn’t realised quite how hungry he was until he took the first bite, and tried hard to stop himself from cramming his face, consciously – if not subconsciously – aware that hunger was no longer a death sentence. Spock’s hand ghosted over the one holding his fork, understanding in his eyes.

‘You have come so far, Jim, in so many ways.’

Jim gave him a tiny smile, abandoning the fork for a moment in order to turn his hand over and hold Spock’s. He took comfort in the way they tangled together, Spock’s long, cool fingers slotting perfectly between his own, and considered how right Spock was.

‘I guess I have made some progress. If you’d’ve asked me when I first came back to make love with you, I would’ve… well, I’d have still wanted to, but I don’t think I could have managed it.’

‘Our lovemaking should never be something for you to endure,’ Spock said firmly, a thread of worry insinuating itself through their connection. ‘If you ever feel like that, we will stop. That… that was not how you felt when we have previously had intercourse..?’

‘No, _God,_ no.’ Jim rushed to reassure him. ‘You’d know if I felt like that, like you did the first time. And it’s been…’

He felt heat rise to his face as he recalled the tenderness with which Spock had treated him the night before.

‘It’s been amazing so far. But I-I might freak out again at some point. I can’t control it.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to,’ Spock soothed, gently squeezing his hand. ‘And I understand completely. I have pursued you because I love you, not because I wish to use you as a sexual object.’

‘I know,’ Jim said shyly, feeling his flush deepen. ‘I love you too.’

That gorgeous little smile graced Spock’s face, and not for the first time, Jim marvelled at how lucky he was to have him. Spontaneously, he leant across the table for a kiss, taking Spock’s face between his hands as he licked away the clementine juice from his lips, sitting back with a grin. Spock looked somewhat shell-shocked, but recovered quickly enough to send Jim a pulse of warmth through the bond, which was received, ironically, with a shiver.

‘If you carry on with that, we’ll never leave this room,’ Jim said throatily, still overwhelmed by how good their new connection could make him feel.

Spock’s eyes had darkened, but he reined himself in, popping an apple slice into his mouth.

_Had we not our duties to attend to, t’hy’la, I would gladly take you up on that offer._

‘I bet you would,’ Jim murmured, attempting to concentrate on his eggs.

After breakfast, Jim found himself more than slightly nervous as he sat before the computer with Spock, waiting for the call to connect to his father. Considering the previous calls they’d had with Sarek, he wasn’t too worried that he wouldn’t approve, but after a lifetime of ‘not good enough’, and the knowledge that he’d essentially married Spock without Sarek’s permission, he couldn’t help but be wary.

‘Do not worry, my Jim,’ Spock reassured him. ‘My father will approve.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Jim muttered, but before Spock could reply, the call was answered by both Sarek and Selek, appearing mere seconds after one another on the screen. Jim smiled widely at Selek, grateful for the sight of his friend, who had done so much for them. He would never be _his_ Spock, but he was _a_ Spock nonetheless, and that was reason enough for Jim to adore him.

‘Good afternoon, younglings.’

‘Hi,’ Jim smiled, subduing his expression a little for Sarek’s sake. ‘Hello, Sarek.’

‘Sa-fu.’

Jim blinked, eyes flicking uncertainly towards Spock.

_Sa-fu means ‘son’, doesn’t it?_

_Indeed,_ Spock replied, raising an eyebrow at his father.

‘You did not think that the change in the bond would go unnoticed?’ Sarek asked nonchalantly, his own eyebrow hiked up. ‘I was aware that you had bonded the moment you did so.’

_My dramatic reveal!_

_Beloved._

‘I am pleased,’ Sarek continued, and Jim gaped, well aware that this was the closest to an admission of emotion that he had ever heard from him. ‘Although a ceremony might not have gone amiss.’

His admonishment was clearly directed at Spock, but Jim felt heat rise to his cheeks anyway, chastised.

‘There are few on New Vulcan whom I would wish to attend.’

Spock’s voice was firm, and Sarek acknowledged his opinion with an inclined head; Selek, with quirked lips.

‘My marriage bond with my own James was forged under similar circumstances,’ he admitted, a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. That, and the twinge of discomfort from Spock’s side of the bond, was enough to have Jim suppressing laughter, unaffected by Spock’s mild disapproval.

‘There is other news,’ Spock announced, gesturing for Jim to speak.

‘We’re engaged!’ Jim blurted, adding, when Sarek’s forehead creased, ‘In, uh, in the human way, I mean.’

The quirk of Selek’s lips grew. ‘Congratulations.’

‘This is pleasing news,’ Sarek added, to Jim’s surprise. ‘I was also wedded in the human manner, although the ceremony was… quite different from what I expected.’

‘I bet it was,’ Jim grinned, relieved that there had been no backlash from either of them.

‘Will you be having the wedding aboard the Enterprise?’ Selek asked, and Jim shrugged, looking to Spock. ‘We haven’t really talked about it yet. It’s all pretty new.’

‘There is, however, something I would like to ask you about, Sa-mekh,’ Spock directed at Sarek, and Selek took the hint.

‘I will leave you, but know that this is news that I have long wished to hear. Live long and prosper.’

‘Peace and long life,’ Spock replied, and Jim waved gaily, turning back to Sarek with a smile. ‘Sa-mekh, do you remember that you and mother both entrusted some of mother’s jewellery to me?’

Sarek nodded, a tiny spasm of pain flitting across his face.

‘You are asking if I would approve of you utilising the silver for your own wedding adornments.’

‘It’s okay if you don’t,’ Jim interjected, worried that they had upset him. ‘We’d understand.’

Shaking his head, Sarek paused for a long moment, a hand reaching for his collar.

‘I still have your mother’s wedding ring, and that remains a comfort to me.’ He drew a silver chain out from inside his robes, and the two rings threaded upon it glinted in the early-morning T’Khasi sunlight. ‘As for her other jewellery, it was her wish that you give it to your intended, so I do not object to you having rings made out of it.’

It was clearly difficult for him to say, and Jim gave him a small, painful smile, reaching for Spock out of view of the screen. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to lose a bondmate, and the thought of ever losing Spock terrified him. Spock took hold of his hand, gently running his thumb over the edge of Jim’s palm, and that simple touch was comforting beyond belief.

‘Thank you,’ Jim choked, a lump lodged in his throat. ‘That means a lot.’

‘Thank you, Father,’ Spock said softly, a sheen to his eyes. Jim felt the grief he was trying to hide, and squeezed his hand, trying to convey his support.

_I’m here, sweetheart._

Spock did not reply verbally, but he sent a wave of gratitude and love through the bond that stole Jim’s breath away.

‘There is no need for thanks,’ Sarek replied, his eyes softer than Jim had ever seen them. ‘Amanda’s greatest wish was for our son to be happy, and I believe that he now is.’

‘I’d like to think so,’ Jim smiled, exchanging a look with Spock, whose own tiny smile was emerging.

‘I am.’

‘Good,’ Jim said softly, well aware that he was making goo goo eyes at his bondmate. Clearing his throat, he tore his gaze away from Spock, back to Sarek. ‘Ensign Xrat trained as a jeweller before joining Starfleet, so I’ll see what they can do.’

‘Very well. I would like to see the rings when they have been made, if possible.’

‘Of course,’ Spock replied, inclining his head at his father.

‘I have duties to attend to,’ Sarek said, with the slightest hint of regret in his tone. ‘I do, however, welcome any correspondence from either of you.’

_‘Call me anytime’,_ Jim smiled, gently stroking the pads of his fingers along Spock’s. _He’s a softie, really._

There was a tiny thrill of amusement from Spock before he responded.

‘Certainly, Sa-mekh.’

‘We will, Sa… Sarek.’

There was a distinct tilt to Sarek’s mouth that Jim would read as amusement in Spock.

‘You may call me Sa-mekh also, if you wish.’

‘I’ll work on it,’ Jim said weakly, more than slightly embarrassed.

Sarek inclined his head, his eyes crinkled in the corners.

‘Then I will bid you farewell. Live long and prosper.’

They murmured the reciprocal farewell, and then Sarek was gone, leaving behind a smiling Jim, and an apparently conflicted Spock, his emotions fluctuating between joy and grief.

‘C’mere,’ Jim murmured, opening his arms, glad when Spock went to him and allowed himself to be enfolded within them. ‘It’s natural to feel this pain, even if we’re happy together.’

‘Yes,’ Spock breathed, burrowing his nose into the crook of Jim’s neck as Jim carded a hand slowly through his hair.

‘It’ll be all right, love. You’ll never forget her, but this way, you can keep a little part of her with you every day.’

‘That is true,’ Spock said softly, emerging with a gentle kiss to Jim’s lips. ‘We should call your brother.’

‘We’ll be able to see our little nephew again,’ Jim said excitedly.

‘It will be interesting to see how he has developed.’

‘Yes, it will,’ Jim grinned, hitting the comm with a flourish. They waited a little longer than usual for the call to connect, and at first, the picture was a bit fuzzy, but then it evened out. Onscreen, an exhausted-looking redhead bounced a grizzling Peter, rubbing his back in soothing circles. In the background, Sam was rummaging in the kitchen.

‘Hey Aurie, how’re you doing?’

‘Hi Jim,’ she smiled, her Irish lilt softened for the baby. ‘I was just about to go for a lie down. I’m doing well, still a little sore though. And my guts kind of feel like they’re about to fall out. But apart from that, fine. This your sweetheart that Sam’s been telling me about?’

‘Yeah, this is Spock,’ Jim said proudly, unable to suppress a flush. ‘Spock, this is my sister-in-law, Aurelan.’

Spock held up the ta’al, and she did also, grinning.

‘Sam’s right, he is a nice-looking fella.’

‘Back off my man, Sammy!’ Jim called, prompting Sam to appear with a middle finger held high.

‘If I wanted him, he’d be mine, as I clearly have the better body.’

‘I beg to differ,’ Spock muttered, to Jim’s delight.

‘So do I,’ Aurelan said mischievously, the shadows under her eyes lightening with her expression. ‘I have the best body of the lot of yous, but unfortunately, I’ve just had to push this little treasure out of me, so the title’s briefly up for grabs. All that being said, it’s nice to meet you, Spock. Last I heard, you two were betrothed?’

‘Yes, well…’ Jim paused, exchanging a soft look with Spock. ‘We, uh, we bonded.’

‘Congratulations!’ Aurelan chirped, at the same moment as Sam whined – ‘Without me?’

Spock made a coughing noise that was almost a choke.

‘Sammy, _seriously,_ you wouldn’t’ve wanted to be involved with that.’

‘Why- _oh._ Oh.’

‘Yeeeah,’ Jim drew out, as Sam averted his gaze. ‘Anyway, that’s us. Vulcan married! And, um, we’re also engaged in the human way.’

Another chorus of congratulations, and Peter seemed to agree, kicking his little legs and burbling.

‘Aww, look, Spock. Even Peter’s happy for us.’

‘Indeed,’ Spock said softly, the flow of emotion in the bond taking on a decidedly paternal tone.

‘You two are steaming ahead,’ Aurelan laughed, passing Peter over to Sam as he appeared. ‘You’ll have a babby soon enough.’

‘Not quite yet, I’m afraid,’ Jim said regretfully, eyes flicking over to Spock. ‘But we will.’

_Our children will be beautiful, t’hy’la._

Spock met his gaze with warm eyes, and Jim touched their fingers together, addicted to the intimacy between them.

‘All right you two, remember where you are,’ Aurelan joked, passing her hand over Peter’s head. ‘I’m going for a sleep, but I’m so happy for you both.’

‘Thanks, Aurie,’ Jim beamed, as Spock murmured his own thanks, his attention now moving to the whimpering baby who reached for the bottle in Sam’s hand. ‘Shhh, baby, look - you’re going to be fed in one minute.’

Peter blinked at him, face screwed up with displeasure as little grizzling noises left his mouth.

‘He doesn’t want to wait a minute,’ Sam snorted, tipping the teat towards his lips. ‘There ya go, buddy. Aurie’s in a much better mood now we’ve got a breast pump.’

‘Bet she is.’

Peter latched on with ease, a pleased little grunt escaping him as he began sucking the milk down, eyes half-closing.

‘Is that good, darling?’ Jim crooned, laughing in delight as Peter kicked his tiny feet. ‘Who’s a happy boy?’

‘He is when he’s being fed,’ Sam quipped, a dopey smile overtaking his face that Jim was sure echoed his own.

‘He is growing,’ Spock said quietly, a tinge of awe to his voice that Jim could not help but find adorable.

‘Mhm. Really, really quickly. Twelve days old already.’

‘I’m glad we got to see him almost from the beginning,’ Jim said wistfully, watching with a swell of love as big blue eyes looked adoringly up at Sam. ‘I’d love to see him for real, though.’

‘It might be a while before that, Jimmy.’ Sam took the bottle away as Peter coughed, wiping milk off his chin with his sleeve. ‘I’m going to go and get this little one off to sleep, but feel free to call whenever. I want him to know his uncles.’

Jim smiled, leaning into Spock, glad to feel a reciprocal pressure against his arm.

‘We’d love to. Thanks, Sammy.’

Sam gave them both an awkward wave around Peter and the bottle, signing off with a grin. As the screen went dark, Jim leant back in his chair with a sigh, pleased, but pensive.

‘I wish they were on board. I missed so much with Sam, and I don’t want that to happen with Peter.’

‘He will know us,’ Spock assured him, cupping his cheek. ‘And when we have the opportunity, we will visit.’

He leant in to press a gentle kiss against Jim’s smiling mouth, drawing back with the stroke of two fingers down the side of his face.

‘I would like to tell Nyota of our bonding, and our engagement, if you are amenable?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Jim said softly, stealing another kiss. ‘I’ll go to Bones. And one of us needs to ask Ensign Xrat to make the rings.’

‘I will do so,’ Spock offered, standing to retrieve the jewellery. ‘Do you have any particular design preference?’

Jim shook his head.

‘I’m sure whatever you think will be amazing. Make sure to grab some lunch while you’re with Uhura, ’kay?’ He slid his hand over Spock’s flat stomach protectively. ‘You don’t eat enough, hon.’

‘I do by Vulcan standards,’ Spock protested, as Jim rose from his chair.

‘Don’t forget your human half, sweetheart.’ He drew Spock into a warm embrace, pressing their fingers together. ‘I’ll see you on Beta, yeah? Love you.’

‘And I you,’ Spock murmured, brushing his lips against Jim’s forehead before making for the door.

Jim watched him leave with what he knew was a goofy smile on his face, soppy in his affection for him. He couldn’t believe that they were bonded, struggling with the idea that someone so perfect wanted _him,_ and permanently to boot. The cracks in his self-esteem showed in moments like this, when there was no one to perform to, but when he needed reassurance, he knew exactly where to turn. Sure enough, when he tentatively reached out, Spock’s presence was with him, warm and safe, and so full of love that there was no room for Jim to doubt himself.

Comforted, he left for Medbay with a smile, sunnily greeting his crewmembers that passed him in the corridors. He gave his best cocksure grin to Christine as he swung past her station, her eyes rolling nearly out of their sockets, and caught sight of Bones flipping through a treatment chart.

‘Doctor, doctor, give me the news,’ Jim crooned, amused by the scowl on Bones’ reddening face. ‘I’ve got a bad case of lovin’ y-’

‘Quiet, infant,’ Bones barked, taking him by the arm and pulling him into his office. ‘This is a Medbay, not a karaoke bar.’

‘Music is good for the soul, Bones.’

‘Yeah, well it ain’t good for my ears when you’re caterwauling.’

‘I’m a good singer,’ Jim pouted, dropping unceremoniously into the chair by Bones’ desk.

Bones harrumphed, twirling a hypo threateningly between his fingers.

‘Why’re you down here in the middle of the day? You sick?’

‘No, no,’ Jim said hastily, keeping an eye on the hypo until Bones laid it down. ‘I just wanted to tell you about something that happened last night.’

Bones’ face darkened with concern.

‘Did you have another panic attack?’

‘Thankfully, no,’ Jim said, grabbing his arm and dragging him to sit on the edge of his desk. ‘Stop looming, it’s a good thing. An amazing thing.’

He couldn’t help but allow the giddy smile he had been struggling to repress spread across his face, and Bones’ frown deepened.

‘Jeez, kid, the suspense is killing me. What’s going on?’

Jim’s smile widened along with Bones’ apparent discomfort, the glowing new bond, and Spock’s presence contained therein, making him feel warm and safe.

‘Spock and I bonded last night,’ he said softly, a tearful laugh escaping as Bones’ expression transformed into something far lighter than before. ‘And to top it all off, we got engaged.’

‘You don’t do things by halves, do you?’ Bones grinned, shaking his head. ‘Congratulations, Jim.’

He seized Jim by the arms and pulled him into a bear hug, ruffling his hair in a way that had Jim squirming with annoyance.

‘I’m happy for you both, kid.’ He drew back enough to look Jim in the eye. ‘You sure move quick though; tell me neither of you are thinkin’ of popping out babies yet.’

‘Not yet,’ Jim said lightly, finding the thought of bringing a child into a universe with Faeral in it horrifying. From afar, Spock soothed him with a wave of gentle affection, as warm and loving as ever.

_We will find him, t’hy’la. And then we will plan for our future._

‘Thank God. Obstetrics ain’t my forte. How’d you bond without being on Vulcan?’

Jim’s smile took on a filthy edge, and judging by the deepening colour on Bones’ face, he had soon realised how Jim would answer.

‘Don’t-’

‘You don’t need a ceremony, Bones,’ he grinned, holding up a finger. ‘All you need is a hot Vulcan fiancé and his ability to make you come.’

‘Oh, for fucks’ sake,’ Bones said bitterly. ‘I do _not_ want to hear about anything going on between you two.’

‘Well, you did ask. The rings are going to be made out of Spock’s mom’s jewellery.’

‘That’s sweet.’ Bones shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you kids are married. I’d better be your best man at your human wedding.’

‘Duh,’ Jim said, offended. ‘Who the hell else would I ask?’

Bones had the decency to look ashamed for a good few seconds, before regaining his usual mutinous expression.

‘Well, good, I’m glad. Should probably be walking you down the aisle for all the shit I’ve done for you over the past few years.’

‘I’m not a bride,’ Jim protested, shuddering at the sudden vision of himself in a wedding dress.

_Interesting, ashayam._

_Oh, shut up._

‘Sure?’ Bones smirked, earning a thump on the arm.

_‘And_ you!’ Jim burst out, earning a confused look. ‘Spock’s listening in.’

‘He can do that!?’

Jim tapped his temple with a grin.

‘He’s in my head. Neat, right?’

‘Disturbing, more like,’ Bones replied, ‘but useful, I guess. What’re you getting?’

Pausing with his finger hovering over the replicator keypad, Jim shrugged.

‘A chicken sandwich, I guess. Want something?’

‘How about some salad on that?’ Bones drawled, and Jim rolled his eyes, complying nonetheless. ‘I’ll have the same, if you don’t mind. Where’s loverboy now?’

‘Telling Uhura, I guess,’ Jim sighed, feeling his absence even in their brief separation. ‘It, uh, it’s rough being apart right now. The bond doesn’t like it.’

He slid Bones’ plate in front of him as he sat with his own, tearing apart the bread to eat.

‘Sounds like last time. It’ll settle down soon.’

‘I know,’ Jim said wistfully, wishing he’d stayed in bed with Spock a little longer. ‘I just… I never thought I’d love someone this much, let alone have them love me back.’

Bones smiled gently, reaching out to squeeze Jim’s forearm.

‘You deserve it, kid. I’m glad you two found each other.’

‘Thanks, Bones,’ Jim said quietly, somewhat ruining the moment by inhaling half of his sandwich at once.

‘Oh, for the love of God.’

_‘Wha'?’_

Bones shook his head in disgust, and Jim grinned around the remnants of his mouthful, nearly choking on it as he swallowed.

‘Serves you right,’ Bones sniffed, leaning back in his chair.

‘Jim?’

Turning towards the door, Jim smiled widely as he saw Spock waiting there, but there was something off in his expression.

‘Prime Minister Eana would like to speak with us.’

Jim’s heart was immediately racing, and he dropped the sandwich like it was burning him, coming to stand on shaky legs.

‘Bones, d’you mind if-?’

‘Sure, sure.’

He left the room, and as the door closed behind him, Spock called up to the Bridge to have the vidfeed streamed on Bones’ computer. As Jim came to sit beside him, Eana appeared, pale, and harried-looking.

‘Captain; Commander,’ she greeted shortly, her gills twitching in a movement Jim could only interpret as nervousness. ‘There has been a development. Last night, 50 of my guards were on patrol outside the parliament building, and when they were recalled this morning, 30 remained.’

Unease began to fester in Jim’s stomach, his body going cold.

‘And the other 20?’

She held her hands up helplessly, the stress evident in her drawn expression.

‘Gone. I don’t know where. There are no bodies, no confused wanderers, _nothing._ I do not have high hopes.’

‘We’ll beam down,’ Jim said firmly, certain that Faeral was up to his old tricks.

‘No.’ If Jim’s voice had been firm, Eana’s was granite. ‘There is no sense in putting your people at risk when I do not know what is happening to my own. There is foul play here.’

‘But we can help,’ Jim protested, earning only a shake of the head.

‘I wished to update you should your aid be needed in the future, but right now, it would only be more to try and keep safe. I appreciate the offer, Captain, but please, stay on the Enterprise for now.’

Jim’s instinct was to argue, but before he could make a point of it, Eana fixed him with a hard stare, and to his immense irritation and frustration, the screen once more went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun. Domestic bliss interrupted, perhaps? The boys needed a little interlude, bless them, but things could be about to change...
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please leave me a comment to let me know what you thought (they're my lifeblood!), and if you can reblog my fic posts on tumblr, that would be great :) The link to those is [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain+of+his+soul/), and in that tag I also put up occasional updates as to when the next chapter will be posted. It's looking like the next will go up on either the 06/01 or 12/01, but I'll let you all know in that tag. Have a great weekend, everyone :)


	22. Do Not Go Gentle

Jim was struggling to rein in his anger – that much was clear to Spock. His love did not take well to idleness, and in the hours since the dismissal from Eana, he had only become more agitated, pacing around the Bridge like a caged animal. He was not immature enough to take his frustration out on the crew, but Spock could feel it pulse through the bond nevertheless, compounded by the concern that without their help, Faeral would escape yet again. Approaching Jim, who sat in his chair, drumming his fingers impatiently against the armrest, Spock attempted to calm him.

‘I, too, find Eana’s decision difficult,’ he said quietly, anchoring his hands behind his back. ‘Yet we cannot risk a diplomatic incident by disobeying her.’

Jim’s anger flared, but he brought it back under control in a way that Spock admired, considering the trauma he had suffered at Faeral’s hands.

‘He’s going to get away,’ Jim said tightly, clearly struggling with the thought. The primal part of Spock, once buried deep, arose viciously at the thought that his t’hy’la’s abuser might escape justice, but even now, he knew that he must contain his ire.

‘If the situation becomes that desperate, I believe Eana will contact us. We have the same end goal, after all.’

With apparent reluctance, Jim nodded, his mouth set in an unhappy line. Spock disliked seeing him so upset, even if he knew that their inaction was – at least for now – the best option. Infringing upon the Euridians could be tantamount to a declaration of war, should Eana decide to take it that seriously.

‘I know. I just have a horrible feeling about this, and you know that my gut feelings are usually pretty accurate.’

‘I do,’ Spock agreed, his own primitive instincts screaming. ‘In this instance, I hope it is not.’

‘Me too,’ Jim murmured, and not for the first time that day, Spock could feel his longing to be close to him. He reciprocated entirely, his own habitual wish to be near to Jim increased tenfold by the insistent nature of the new bond, its siren song calling for him to hold and protect and mate. Judging by the sweat beginning to bead on Jim’s forehead, he was not unaffected either, and in the absence of the ability to soothe him properly, Spock made an executive decision.

‘Captain, if I may have five minutes of your time.’

Jim looked up at him with a furrow in his brow, gesturing for him to go ahead.

_In private, Jim._

‘Sulu, you have the conn,’ Jim announced, watching him with confusion and anticipation both as he stood, allowing Spock to lead the way from the Bridge. Guiding Jim towards his Ready Room, Spock bade him enter first, keying shut the door behind them.

‘What’s this about?’

Once certain that the door was locked, Spock turned and enveloped Jim in his arms, resting his cheek atop his head. His breath shuddered from him upon the contact, the bond sighing somewhat in relief as Jim snuggled against him, clutching at his shirt. There was a long beat of silence, as they breathed one another in, the burning urge to be together satiated for the moment.

‘Honey… not that this isn’t wonderful, but we’ve got a ship to run and an evil bastard to catch.’

‘The bond demanded attention,’ Spock murmured, pressing a tiny kiss against his crown. ‘We were both becoming more agitated in the absence of touch, and it would have begun to affect our work had I not removed us for a few minutes.’

‘It can’t be like this forever,’ Jim said quietly, sounding rather sleepy.

‘It will not be,’ Spock assured him, combing a hand through his soft hair. ‘Perhaps for a few days. Proud as I am to call you husband, it might have been more prudent for me to have delayed the bonding-’

He stopped as Jim jerked, the movement heralding a rigidity throughout Jim’s body as pain and panic shot through the bond.

‘Shhh, k'diwa,’ Spock cooed, regretting his ill-chosen words. ‘I do not regret committing to you. I simply wish we had the opportunity to seclude ourselves for a few days.’

Jim’s relief was palpable, and he leant heavily against Spock, stroking a hand over his spine.

‘Maybe… maybe once this is over, we could take a few days. We could…’ His eyes flicked nervously up to Spock’s. ‘We could get married.’

Spock felt a flush of warmth, and his arms tightened around Jim as he lay a gentle kiss upon his lips, joyful at the prospect of committing to Jim in the Human way as well.

‘We can,’ he said softly, holding him close. ‘Ensign Xrat has agreed to make the rings, and they should be ready within a week.’

Jim’s smile was blinding, and for a moment, Spock forgot their current circumstances, distracted entirely by his beautiful bondmate. Were they not in the middle of a crisis, he might have been persuaded to take leave for a few days, cocooning himself in with Jim and allowing their need for proximity to settle, but regretfully, circumstances were not permitting of that. They had only these five short minutes, at least until Beta shift had ended, and Spock knew that if he didn’t let go of Jim now, he would struggle to at all. Drawing two fingers down the warm curve of Jim’s cheek, he gently pulled away, hating the spasm of discontent in Jim’s expression.

_I know, my love. I cherish thee._

_Love you too, sweetheart,_ Jim murmured, mustering a smile. ‘Come on, then. We’d better get back.’

Spock nodded, accepting the Vulcan kiss pressed against his fingers as Jim led the way to the Bridge, the agitation of before eased by their time alone. Resolving to repeat the process should Jim become upset once more, Spock parted from him with a brush of their hands, returning with determination to the maps displayed above his station. It was two point seven three hours later when the next communication came from Euridian, re-igniting the sense of urgency from before.

‘Do you want to take it in your Ready Room, Captain?’ Nyota asked, but Jim shook his head impatiently, shifting upright in his Chair.

‘On the main screen, please, Lieutenant.’

When Eana appeared, Spock’s suspicions were immediately aroused. There was a certain unkemptness to her habitually neat appearance, and a strange tinge to the skin beneath her eyes – in humans, Spock might have suspected tears, but he was not sure whether the Euridians had tear ducts. Certainly, her appearance might have been due to the intense stress of the last few days, but the instincts buried within his human half were stirring. Something was not quite right. That opinion seemed to be shared by Jim, judging by the unease filtering through their connection.

‘Captain,’ Eana began, intensity in her voice, and a tight smile tugging at her lips. ‘We have succeeded. Faeral is here.’

A wave of relief passed through Spock, originating from both himself and Jim, and he rose to come and stand by Jim’s Chair, reading the excitement on his face with affection. Still, the unease lingered, but as Jim took the lead in the conversation, he radiated little but positivity.

‘That’s fantastic,’ he beamed, all but glowing. ‘How did you get hold of him?’

‘He attempted to attack yet more of my guards, and was injured. When he tried to run, he was captured, and he remains unconscious and sedated in a holding cell.’

‘And when he wakes?’ Spock questioned, determined not to leave anything out.

‘He will be treated with a psi-inhibitor,’ Eana asserted, her gills twitching. ‘He… he will not hurt any of our people again.’

Once again, Spock found himself uneasy, but he could not pinpoint the reasons as to why. Jim was nigh-on delirious with happiness, his disbelief and joy infectious, and when he turned briefly to Spock, his smile was radiant.

‘I would request, Captain, that you and the Commander beam down. I would like you to be involved in the justice process.’

‘Of course,’ Jim said graciously, getting to his feet. ‘We’ll meet you in the main hall. Kirk out.’

Eana’s answering nod was short, and she cut the connection without another word, intensifying Spock’s suspicion. He was not sure where the suspicion was directed, nor why in particular he felt this way, but it remained nonetheless.

‘Uhura, I’d like you to come in case we get into linguistic difficulties. And can you please also contact Lieutenant-Commander Giotto, Lieutenant Lewinsky, and the duty Security team? We’ll meet you all in the transporter room.’

‘Yes, Captain.’

‘Spock, with me.’

Spock gladly acquiesced, wishing to stay near to him in this culmination of their efforts. The turbolift offered a few moments of privacy, and in that safe space, he took the opportunity to voice his lingering uncertainty.

‘Jim,’ he said slowly, knowing full well that his conclusions were not based upon logic. ‘Something is _wrong.’_

Jim did not immediately react, standing frozen with his hands twisting together, and his gaze on the floor.

‘I think so too,’ he sighed, after a long pause. When he looked up, his eyes were wide and pleading, as if desperate for Spock to assuage his fears. ‘But I have to believe everything’s going to be okay. We’re at an end point, Spock, I can feel it.’

In this, he seemed certain, but Spock was not sure that this ‘end point’ would be a positive one, despite Eana’s assertions. Both he and Jim knew all too well what Faeral was capable of, and Spock could not imagine that any cage would hold him for long. While Jim had a responsibility as Captain to acquiesce to Eana’s request, the idea of him getting hurt in the process made Spock feel nauseous. A surge of protectiveness overtook him as he surveyed his pale, proud bondmate, stood with a set jaw and a straight back, preparing himself for the worst. Despite wishing nothing more than to whisk Jim away and conceal him from danger, he had to balance his instincts as a mate with his duty as a First Officer, and allow him to take the lead, however much he wanted to do the opposite.

‘Let’s hope they’ve taken the right precautions,’ Jim said shortly, as he led them out of the turbolift. ‘He’s dangerous.’

Beneath the veneer of Jim’s professionalism, and his stoic façade, lay a layer of utter terror that set rage burning in Spock. That his beloved felt such intense fear because of the scum that was imprisoned on the planet below made his usually well-controlled temper flare wildly. He knew he had to keep himself under control, knew that emoting instead of acting would be no help to anyone, least of all Jim. If the situation were to escalate, he had to keep a clear head for as long as possible.

They equipped themselves in the transporter room, huddled together in a quiet corner as the others began arriving. Jim’s hands shook slightly as he affixed his phaser holster, so with a gentle nudge, Spock pushed them away and affixed it himself, unable to resist pressing a lingering Vulcan kiss to his fingers.

_I am here, t’hy’la._

_I know, love,_ Jim replied, his smile tiny, but there. _I’m glad._

However irrationally, Spock wanted to lock him in their quarters, to wrap him up warm and safe and take his place on the away team, but he knew his stubborn bondmate would not agree. He had to respect their roles, and Jim’s higher rank, but standing by as Jim walked into an unknown situation so potentially dangerous was anathema to him. Longing to provide the physical comfort he could not in public, he allowed his affection and faith in Jim to trickle through the bond, earning a quick smile.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Jim said softly, discreetly taking his hand. As the doors to the transporter room opened, and the rest of the away team began filing in, he let go with a squeeze, to Spock’s – and the new bond’s - dismay.

_I will remain by your side,_ Spock replied, unwilling to let Jim out of his sight in this uncertainty. _You will not endure this alone._

Jim cast him a soft, grateful look, before turning to the group with a smile that was so convincing, it might have fooled Spock without their bond.

‘So, good news, we hope. If all goes well, we should have a tyrant in custody, and negotiations to reconsider within a few days. Still…’

He turned briefly towards Spock, eyes troubled.

‘Both Mister Spock and myself have our suspicions that the situation is not quite so clear cut.’

‘I agree,’ Nyota chipped in, expression grim. ‘Her body language was off somehow.’

‘Great,’ Jim breathed, fiddling with his phaser holster. Spock knew it was out of nervousness rather than a lack of functionality. ‘I want everyone to be extremely cautious, and if I tell you to return to the ship, you do so. This guy is a psychopath. Anything to add, Mister Spock?’

‘Only that I would advise that you all remain alert, and that phasers are kept to hand. We may potentially be wrong about the danger, but the evidence suggests otherwise.’

There were a few nods, and a quiet buzz of murmured agreements which satisfied Spock. He looked to Jim, who ordered the group onto the transporter platform, taking his place beside Spock at the front of the group. His anxiety remained heightened, but Spock had no more reassurance to give. He did not know what situation they would be beaming into.

_Talukh nash-veh k’dular, adun._

Jim blinked, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

_I love you too, sweetheart. Stay close._

‘Energise!’

The familiar undoing disorientated Spock, but he quickly regained his senses once he re-materialised in front of the Parliament building. The courtyard, the wall surrounding it still in disrepair, was eerily quiet. Jim seemed frozen, his body rigid with tension, and Spock suspected that he was remembering the last time he had been here. Attempting to reassure Jim, he stepped up beside him as they surveyed the barren area before them.

‘Where is everyone?’ Nyota murmured, her voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly would attract negative attention.

Jim shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line.

‘Not sure. But I don’t like it.’

There came the sound of rushed footsteps, and Spock drew his phaser at once, followed by the Security team a few seconds later once they could hear them too. The heavy wooden doors to the building were pushed open with apparent effort, and behind them was Eana, alone. Her entourage of guards had been ever-present since their first meeting, and seeing her without them sent Spock’s suspicions into overdrive.

_Jim…_

_I know. Just wait._

Eana was as unkempt in person as she had been on the holoscreen, her face blotchy and her clothes somewhat dishevelled. Her gills fluttered weakly, like those of a fish gasping in the open air, and with a sinking sensation in his chest, Spock noticed an infinitesimal tremor to her hands as she raised them in welcome.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said warmly, eyeing the Security team. ‘If you’d like to follow me.’

‘Where are your guards?’ Jim asked shortly, unmoving.

‘As you know, the recent attacks have unfortunately led to the death and/or incapacitation of many of my Security members. With the threat of Faeral eliminated, I decided that the journey to my own front door, as it were, did not require an escort.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly, frustration visible beneath the veil of neutrality.

‘If you’d _like_ to follow me.’

Exchanging a loaded glance with Spock, Jim inclined his head, and the group followed Eana inside with trepidation. Spock made certain to remain close to Jim, unconvinced by the veil of normality Eana was displaying, and concerned for the rest of the landing party as well as his Captain. The grand entrance hall was as empty as the courtyard had been, their echoing footsteps on the tiled floor the only sound in the vast, vacant space, undisturbed, but still somehow disconcerting. The last time Spock had been there, the room had been filled with dozens upon dozens of military personnel, government advisors, and Eana’s personal guards, conspicuous in their absence.

‘Where are your other staff?’ he asked, his voice amplified in the open space.

Eana’s head twitched back towards him, but she neither turned around, nor stopped walking.

‘We have lost many of our people. Those who remain – now that Faeral has been captured – are posted where they are most needed. That is not here.’

It might have been a believable answer, had Spock not previously seen the sheer number of personnel that Eana liked to have around her, and her understandable caution with regards to Faeral. Unconvinced, but unable to confront her for the sake of the negotiations in case his suspicions were instead paranoia, he quieted, resolving to remain cautious. Jim was equally alert, his gaze quick and his phaser held tightly, even as he projected an image of fearless calm. Despite his earlier, understandable, terror, there was now only an intense determination to ensure that Faeral was unable to hurt anyone ever again. Spock would see that his wish came true.

As they continued through the labyrinthine corridors of parliament, a few guards did surface, but the jubilation that Spock might have expected at such a victory was mysteriously absent. Instead, they were met with averted eyes and grim expressions, offering the group no greetings. Just as Spock considered voicing his thoughts once more, the group was brought to a halt in front of a dimly-lit entryway, before which Eana paused, turning to them.

‘He is imprisoned below in the dungeons. I would prefer it, Captain, if only you and the Commander come to see the prisoner. He has had audience enough over the past few years, and I would not like his poison to reach more ears than need be.’

Spock met Eana’s eyes with a carefully neutral expression, then turned to Jim for his verdict, unable to discern deception in her.  

_It could be a trap,_ he warned, still uneasy.

_Seems likely, but what choice do I have?_

To that, Spock could give no answer. Jim gave him the equivalent of a mental shrug, and nodded sharply at Eana, stilling Giotto’s attempt at protestation.

‘Fine,’ he said abruptly. ‘But my crew will remain here. The only thing I trust about Faeral, is that he knows how to deceive.’

Before Eana could reply, he turned back to their away party and swept his gaze across the group, steel in his eyes.

‘Remember your directives.’

It appeared that the gravity in his voice was not lost on any of them; Lieutenant Giotto stood at the forefront of the group with his habitual stoicism, Nyota by his side, her worry betrayed only by the wideness of her eyes. Feeling his heartrate climb, Spock, for once, allowed it. He would need the adrenaline should the situation turn sour.

‘Commander,’ Jim said neutrally, and at once, Spock’s attention snapped to him, attempting to calm his feverish emotions even as his own threatened to escape his control.

‘Lead the way, Prime Minister,’ Spock requested, allowing Jim to lead the way, even as his blood burned to protect him.

_Take care, t’hy’la._

_I will. You too._

The ornate wooden door that Eana opened was immediately followed by a steep, narrow staircase which they descended with care. The feeling of entrapment intensified along with their advance down into the darkness, lit only by lanterns that flickered and winked, and where Spock knew he would not be seen, he lay a gentle hand on Jim’s back, hoping that his touch would soothe, even just a little. He could feel Jim’s gratitude, but it was fleeting, and consumed almost entirely by torment by the time they reached the bottoms of the stairs. Spock was helpless to comfort him.

‘Through here,’ Eana directed, and as she opened yet another door for them to walk through, the door at the top of the staircase swung shut with a bang.

Spock’s phaser was immediately raised, some unknown force sending him stumbling through the lower door after Jim, who demanded –

‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Surely, you’ve guessed that by now, Captain.’

The voice was low, words enunciated, and dripping with malice, and it certainly didn’t come from Eana, who was now cringing before them in the darkness. Jim’s reaction was visceral, ice-cold terror spreading insidiously through the bond, accompanied by nausea so violent that Spock wondered that he wasn’t vomiting. Overcome by rage at this malevolent creature, one who had caused his mate so much pain, Spock felt a great rage boiling within him. Teeth baring in his fury, he advanced slowly through the dark, but he could not see from where the voice was originating.

‘I’m sorry,’ Eana choked out, tearful. ‘He has my family.’

Although Spock could not help but feel some sympathy for her, he remained utterly enraged at her deception.

‘Show yourself,’ he ordered, dimly aware of the roughness that emotion brought to his voice.

‘Certainly.’

In the dim, intermittent light of the room, there suddenly appeared a slight, unimposing figure, barely visible but for the wide, shark-like smile spreading across his face.

‘Commander,’ he said silkily, turning his attention to Jim with glee. ‘Captain.’

A low, rumbling growl left Spock’s chest at the spike in Jim’s fear and loathing, and he stared with hatred at the unimpressive creature before him. He had seen Faeral previously in the holos shown to the crew before the mission, but seeing him in the flesh, knowing that he had tortured Jim so viciously, rendered him unable to control himself.

‘Commander,’ Faeral smiled, mockery in his tone. ‘You’re far more _emotive_ than I expected you to be. Perhaps you would like to rein yourself in, before I have to dole out some consequences.’

‘Leave him alone,’ Jim spat, regaining his fire.

Spock moved carefully towards him, determined to protect him should the situation turn sour. Faeral’s eyes flicked between them, and his ugly smile wavered.

‘Careful, Jim. You know all too well that I can silence you if I wish.’

Hands curling involuntarily into fists, Spock fought hard to contain the temper that he knew could cause Jim to come to harm. He felt heat spread throughout his body, his blood pounding fiercely enough that he could hear his own heartbeat. Something had to give.

‘Isn’t it time to give up yet?’ Jim asked angrily, stepping forward. ‘Your followers are either dead, or alienated from you because you abandoned them – do you think you can rule Euridian without support?’

‘It is my birthright,’ Faeral snarled, the benevolent expression collapsing all at once.

‘The people have chosen democracy,’ Spock interjected.

‘The people will do as they are told!’ Faeral spat, breathing hard enough that his gills were flaring. ‘I am their king.’

‘Not anymore.’

Jim’s words were cold and threaded through with certainty, and although Spock was proud that he was facing his torturer with such strength, he knew that Faeral would not be quite so appreciative. Indeed, Faeral appeared to be trembling with rage, but it was nothing compared to what Spock felt for him.

‘I _will_ have the throne,’ Faeral whispered, eyes burning. ‘You’ll see.’

They were the words of a spoiled child, troubling enough without their origin being a madman with abilities he did not deserve. Slowly, trying not to think too carefully about what he was doing in case Faeral was utilising his psychic skills, Spock’s hand inched towards his phaser. He had had enough of this torture for his t’hy’la.

‘You’ve already lost,’ Jim argued.

For a moment, it seemed that Faeral was going to explode with anger, but he composed himself with a violent shudder, and to Spock’s horror, the mask of rage upon his face morphed slowly into a sickly-sweet grin.

‘We’ll see. Captain, if you would?’

Confused, Spock turned to Jim, and now that his eyes had adjusted slightly, he could see that the colour had drained from Jim’s face. His eyes were wide and wet, and there was a fierce trembling through his body that made Spock’s stomach lurch. His gaze seemed fixed, and when he did not respond to Spock’s tentative prodding through the bond, Spock began advancing on Faeral.

‘What have you done to him?’ he demanded, unable to contain himself.

Faeral made no reply other than a vicious smile directed at Jim, who made a terrible noise in the back of his throat that chilled Spock to the bone. The dimmed torches burst alight all at once, and though Spock leapt forward with a rabid snarl, in barely a second, both Jim and Faeral were gone. Panic exploded through him, and he could not repress his cry of rage, ignoring the way Eana flinched as he shoved past her to get to the door, tugging in a way that should have split the wood beneath his desperate hands. The door did not give, but that did not stop Spock digging his fingers into the groove around it, pulling until his skin split and blood trickled down towards his wrists.

‘It’s no use,’ Eana said quietly, earning only a furious glare. ‘If he doesn’t want it to open, it won’t open.’

Spock’s hands dropped with a growl of frustration, and he turned on Eana, stalking forward until she stumbled into the wall.

‘This is your doing,’ he hissed, shaking with anger. ‘Jim has endured far more than any man should ever have to, and now he has been taken again. Have you any idea the extent of what has been done to him? Or of the lasting trauma he is facing because of it? You are a coward.’

She seemed not to be able to look him in the eye, but in the more rational part of his mind, he considered that it might be out of fear rather than shame. Forcing calm upon himself – if only because he knew Jim would not benefit from him losing his composure here – he stepped back to allow her some space.

‘My… my children have been with extended family for the last three years.’

He eyed her dispassionately, straining to find Jim in the bond, but there was no response to his call.

‘We decided that they would be safer hidden, and it is not common knowledge among even my closest acquaintances that they exist. This morning, Faeral had my eldest dancing next to the edge of a cliff, and told me that if I didn’t call you down, he would have her jump off the edge. What would you have done, if you had children?’

Spock knew all too well, but being acutely aware of the danger his new husband was now in, he found his sympathy lacking.

‘We might never have children,’ he said cruelly, the thought bringing a painful lump to his throat. ‘You may have stolen that from us. Who knows where he has now been taken?’

‘They won’t have gone far. Faeral believes himself to be the rightful ruler, so I cannot imagine that he has left the building.’

‘And what good is that if we cannot leave the room?’ Spock snapped, beginning to pace once more.

Eana, it seemed, could give him no answer, and when he had exhausted himself searching for another method of exit, he sat cross-legged in the centre of the room.

‘Do not speak unless absolutely necessary,’ he said tersely, sinking as quickly as possible into a meditative state. When the join between their minds came into view, the beauty of Jim’s meadow was rendered inaccessible by a clear wall of what looked to be glass, stretching higher than Spock could see. Their marriage bond still remained, as golden and beautiful as Jim was, but they were separated by more than physical distance. Laying his hand against the glass, with a sickening lurch, Spock was reminded of Jim’s death in the warp core, and his instinct to find and hold and protect his mate went into overdrive.

_Jim!_ he called, hearing his voice echo back at him. _T’hy’la, please! Where are you?_

There was not even a stirring on the other side of the glass, and Spock grew increasingly desperate as he shouted for Jim, unable to gauge his emotions at all. It was as if Jim’s side of the bond had been put on mute, for while Spock knew they were still connected, he was unable to communicate with Jim at all. Heart hammering, Spock abandoned the idea of calling to him, and instead focused intently on the bond itself, trying to determine where he had been taken. Peripherally, he was aware of Eana’s restless movement, but he ignored her, taking hold of the thread that connected them and slowly, gently, tracing it to its origin.

_There._

Jim remained nearby, though how Spock would retrieve him was a different question. Hope sprang anew, although when he noticed that almost an hour had passed when he opened his eyes, urgency once more overtook him. There was no time to waste.

‘I’ve had a thought,’ Eana offered, when she saw that he was alert.

Spock raised an eyebrow at her, feeling slightly less murderous now that he knew where Jim was.

‘When this place was built, the political situation was even more dangerous than it is now. As such, they asked for a number of passageways to be incorporated into the building’s design. I’m not sure if there’s one leading from this room, but…’

She gestured to what appeared to be a computer in a hidden alcove, the screen reading ‘ACCESS DENIED’ in flashing, bold letters.

‘Are you any good with computers?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, drama. Spock is Furious with a capital F, and Faeral is definitely underestimating him...
> 
> I really hope you liked this chapter! If you did, please drop me a comment! Much as I appreciate kudos - I kind of imagine it like finger guns across a room - comments are my lifeblood :)
> 
> I'm over at [my blog](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/) if any of you want to catch me on tumblr, and fic updates/posts about scheduling are in the /captain-of-his-soul tag. There is where you'll also find chapter links if any of you would like to help me out by reblogging them. Have a great weekend, guys!!


	23. Even Darkness Must Pass

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

It was maddening. The tap must be leaking again, and Frank always left it to him to fix things. No doubt he’d be dragged out of bed by his hair to do something about it if he didn’t get up now, so it was probably be best to pre-empt that. But last night’s beating had left him so sore…

‘Maaaybe, you’ll think of meee, when you are aaaall aloooone.’

Jim winced at the loud, grating singing coming from right beside him, praying for the energy to put his hands over his ears. Thankfully, the screechy voice trailed off, but it was replaced by an off-key whistling that was almost as bad, and Jim groaned in frustration, rolling onto his side.

‘Oh, Jiiiim! Are you awake yet?’

He knew that voice, and it certainly wasn’t Frank’s. Forcing open gritty eyes, Jim found himself back in his prison, and his blood turned to ice. Surely this was another illusion. Surely he wasn’t back where he’d started. He tried to call for Spock, but felt his chest tighten with panic as he came across absolute blankness, as if the bond had never been there at all.

‘It’s time to get up, Jim. You’ve been having pleasant dreams for rather a long time now.’

With utter dread, Jim slowly sat up, keeping his gaze fixed on the craggy wall opposite. Avoiding looking at Faeral meant that he could at least somewhat pretend that this was a dream. Unfortunately, Faeral had other ideas. He crouched before Jim, and angled his head until Jim met his eyes, amusement dancing in their cold depths.

‘Are we going to have any more resistance?’ Faeral asked softly, as if speaking to a wounded animal.

‘To what?’ Jim croaked, staring at him with hatred.

‘To the questions I ask you every day, of course. I want to know what Eana is up to, and I want as much information as you can give me on Starfleet.’

Jim snorted humourlessly.

‘Back to that?’ he asked, letting his head drop back against the wall. There was a curious ache to it, similar to the pain he had felt on his first awakening here. Come to think of it, his arm was hurting too; white-hot needles of pain shot up his arm when he tried to move it, and when he flicked his eyes down, he found it resting at a sickeningly wrong angle. Rather more uncertainly, he continued, ‘Spock and the others have found me once; they’ll find me again.’

Faeral’s smooth brow creased a little, and his head tilted in apparent puzzlement.

‘What do you mean ‘again’? _Oh…_ oh, you don’t still believe that, do you? Earth to Jim – I’m an illusionist! You were never rescued. We’ve never been found. And Spock will never see you as anything more than a commanding officer, and perhaps, as much of a friend as a Vulcan will allow.’

No. This – _this –_ was the illusion. For a moment, Jim couldn’t breathe for the pain and the panic, but he willed himself into calm once more.

‘Spock’s going to lose it,’ he warned, consoling himself with thoughts of Spock arriving and tearing him apart.

Faeral sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, the sound ringing with frustration.

‘Spock isn’t real,’ he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. ‘Or, at least, _your_ version of him isn’t.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Jim argued heatedly, refusing to believe that the happiest weeks of his life were anything but reality.

‘Oh, really? Where then is your bond, Jim? Where is your _husband? That_ Spock is as real as your children; which is to say, not at all.’

Jim found himself struggling to breathe, chest tight and heart aching, and he had to fight not to begin the downward spiral to the place of utter devastation he had been in last time. Because there had been a last time. He was sure of it.

‘You’re lying,’ he rasped, hating how his voice cracked mid-word.

Mock-pity twisted Faeral’s expression, superficial and cruel.

‘I know you want to believe you’re going to get that fairytale ending, as pathetic as that is for a Starship Captain. But it’s not going to happen. Spock doesn’t love you, Jim. He’s never going to love you.’

Trembling with repressed anger and misery, Jim leant towards him, biting back a cry of pain as the tensing of his fist sent an electric shock of pain up his arm.

‘You’re wrong. And you’re going to be sorry about it.’

Faeral’s smile grew sadistic.

‘Spock will forget you,’ he said softly, tilting his head as if in sympathy. ‘He’ll marry Uhura, and they’ll have little pointy-eared babies, and you’ll be here forever unless you give up what you know. Priorities, Captain.’

Jim’s expression was mutinous, but inside he was cracking, destabilised and hurting in the apparent absence of the bond. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to respond despite all the hatred he wished to hurl at the bastard before him. Sighing, Faeral pushed himself to stand as if doing so were a great effort.

‘Perhaps tomorrow, then. I’ll leave you to readjust.’

When he wrenched open the door, Jim couldn’t help but lean sideways to look outside the cell, and was sickened to see a barren wasteland he recognised before the door was slammed behind Faeral. The thought that he was back here, isolated, and with no idea how long it might take for the crew to find him, was uniquely terrifying. Still, Faeral must have been lying about Spock. Jim had experienced his illusions so many times, and his time with Spock felt far more grounded in reality than what he had previously been shown. Spock was his life; their bonding and upcoming marriage meant everything to him, and he couldn’t wait for them to spend the rest of their lives together.

And yet.

The loss of the bond was a ragged pulse in his mind, far more devastating now that he had known the warmth and light and life of it. He ached to feel Spock’s arms around him, but just as much for the love that habitually surrounded him like a comfort blanket, and the knowledge that Spock was with him, always. He had never felt as safe as when the two of them were tangled together, body and mind. Clumsily reaching through his mind, and cursing himself for not learning more about utilising the bondspace, Jim called out for Spock until he went hoarse. He called in vain. Despite his increasing desperation, there came no reply, and panic squeezed at his throat. He found himself gasping for breath, and yet this time, there was no one but himself to help. He forced air through his constricted windpipe with a congested croak, ignoring the way his arm was on fire when he lifted it to tug at his collar. Eventually, remembering how Spock had held him in their quarters during the last attack, his breathing calmed, but his thoughts did not.

As time ticked away, he couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if Faeral was telling the truth. The very idea filled him with such despair that he found himself gagging, tears pricking painfully at his eyes. He’d believed that their children were real, for however short a time, and so it wasn’t entirely out of the realms of possibility. Still, their relationship felt true. Spock’s warm arms and soft lips were so tangible, so comforting, and their lovemaking so explosive, that he didn’t understand how it could be an illusion.

Shivering, Jim drew his knees up against his chest, and wished that Spock was there with him. He would know what to do. He’d be able to tell Jim what was real, and what wasn’t. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to reassure Jim that their bond was hidden, rather than lost. If Faeral had fabricated it all, then his cruelty knew no bounds. Now that Jim had known what it would be like to be loved by Spock, he could never go back.

‘Where are we at in the five stages of grief now?’

Jim started, then stared hatefully at the malevolent bastard who had sneaked in without his habitual fanfare.

‘Ooh, dear. I was hoping we were edging towards acceptance, but it seems we’re still in the anger part.’

Faeral tutted, leaning back against the door.

‘Just thought I’d come and see how you’re doing,’ he sneered, folding his arms. ‘You know, with the reality of being alone and unloved.’

‘You’re a pathological liar,’ Jim spat, though fear that he was wrong quickened his words.

A short bark of laughter escaped Faeral, a smirk tugging at his lips.

‘You are naïve and easily fooled. But you’ll learn soon enough. The Enterprise will carry on without you eventually, unless you decide to talk.’

Jim didn’t deign to answer, and with a sardonic shrug, Faeral turned on his heel and left once more, letting the door fall shut with a bang.

_Spock,_ Jim pleaded, desperate for an answer. _T’hy’la, where are you?_

It was as if he’d never been aware of a bond at all, such was the loneliness of his mind. He couldn’t even search through the darkness without Spock to guide him. He’d never been a quitter, and there was no chance of Faeral dragging any secrets from him, but God, if the loss didn’t make him want to give up. Sinking into despair, he drew his arm against his chest with a pained whimper, and closed his eyes against the sight of his prison.

It might have been minutes or hours later, for all that Jim knew, that a quiet scrabbling noise disturbed the silence of the cell. At first, he didn’t bother looking up, thinking that perhaps the equivalent of a rat was moving about, but the sound soon became loud enough to truly draw his attention. It was coming from a section of the back wall a few feet away from him, and as the sound of crumbling stone and the movement of a far larger creature than expected met his ears, he positioned himself in front of it, heart pounding. Hope tugged at his chest, but even as it did, Faeral’s words came back to haunt him. Discerning what was real and what was not was not easy for him anymore – not here, where Faeral could make him believe what he pleased.

Sitting back on his heels at a loud, scraping sound, he watched with trepidation as a large stone was dumped out onto the floor just inches away from his knees. Its disruption revealed a slightly-dishevelled Spock on his knees in a passageway, who extracted himself from the hole with little of his usual grace.

‘Jim.’

Jim felt a dizzying rush of joy, then a rush of terror so strong that he found himself shaking so hard he thought he might rattle apart. The half-smile on the apparition’s face melted away.

‘Ashayam?’ he murmured, kneeling before him. ‘What has he done to you?’

Jim hiccupped miserably, unable to prevent his welling tears from spilling over. He knew he shouldn’t show this vulnerability, not when Faeral could see and gloat. But he was tired, so tired, and he wanted nothing more than for Spock to find him and take him home.

‘I wish you were real.’

Spock’s soft, neutral expression splintered, and there was such tangible rage in him that Jim could feel it crackle in the air between them. He flinched, and all at once, the expression melted into one of devastation, and the apparition reached for him.

‘That anger is not for you, my t’hy’la,’ he soothed, caressing his cheek. ‘And this is no illusion, I promise you.’

Confused, Jim held his breath as Spock leant in and kissed him softly, pressing tentatively back after a few seconds. Spock’s lips felt the same, as did the gentle hands stroking over his cheeks, and so with a jagged breath of relief, he kissed back with desperate enthusiasm, tears spilling unhindered from his eyes.

‘Adun,’ Spock murmured, drawing back to brush butterfly kisses over his face. His elegant hands shook as he brushed away Jim’s tears with his thumbs. ‘I am here now.’

‘Thank God,’ Jim said breathlessly, closing his eyes as he touched his forehead to Spock’s. ‘Thank God.’

He took a moment to just breathe him in, grounding himself in the solid weight of strong arms that moved to hold him, and in the familiar comfort of his smell. Still, even as he was being physically reassured, their bond – which Jim had come to rely upon so heavily – remained elusive.

‘I can’t- I can’t feel you,’ he choked, feeling its loss in the intense ache in his head. Their marriage bond hadn’t even had time to settle, and being without it was even more unbearable than being without their t’hy’la bond had been.

There was clear rage in the set of Spock’s jaw, but Jim was soothed by the knowledge that it wasn’t for him. Spock released him slightly, and a gentle hand smoothed over his cheek until cool fingers came to rest upon his meld points. With a shuddering sigh, Jim consented to the meld, and allowed Spock to search through the ruined bondspace.

_Peace, t’hy’la. It is merely trickery. Feel me._

Jim felt Spock sink deeper into his mind, and the sensation was a relief like none other, at once like the familiar comfort of coming home, and the ecstasy of making love. He opened willingly for Spock, trusting no one more than his husband with both the brightness and the dark recesses of his mind. The blankness wherein the bond had once stretched between them made Jim shiver, the memory of the ruthless way Faeral had ripped into it plaguing him anew. Spock took him by the hand, and Jim reluctantly let himself be led towards the barren space, cringing at the sight.

_Look._

Spock pointed, and Jim squinted into the black, waiting for his eyes to adjust. His hope sparked when he caught sight of something fluttering dimly in the darkness, and he stepped forward without thought, instinct driving him to seek to heal it. Despite the situation, joy quickened his heart as he saw that it truly was the bond; it was almost invisible, the colour faded from it, but it was still there.

_How-how can we fix it?_

_It does not need ‘fixing’, k’diwa. Faeral is perhaps not quite as strong as he believes. It merely needs reawakening._

Spock guided his hand towards their dulled connection, and the moment he took hold of the thread, it flared with white light, and he felt completion wash over him anew as the bond roared back to life. Jim’s breath caught as gold spilled over the thread until it burned as brightly as the day they had bonded, and when Spock gently withdrew from his mind, he collapsed against him in knee-weakening relief.

‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ he rasped, his forehead dropping to the crook of Spock’s neck. ‘I missed you.’

The rejuvenating of their bond heralded a wave of deep affection and protectiveness from Spock, but there remained a broiling anger also, even more intense than when they had first arrived in Pirilia.

‘I missed you too,’ Spock replied softly, kissing Jim’s crown as he carded his hand through his hair.

‘He made me think that you never found me,’ Jim murmured thickly, emotion tugging at his vocal cords. ‘He said that you were about as real as the children.’

Rage sparked through the bond, and Spock gathered him closer, attempting to soothe him.

‘I am real, my Jim. And the children will be too, one day.’ He rocked Jim gently, then drew back enough to look him in the eye. ‘You must leave.’

Having calmed in Spock’s arms, Jim was startled by his words, and pulled back further with n incredulous look.

‘What?’

‘He has targeted you a number of times, t’hy’la. I will no longer tolerate it.’

‘Spock, I’m not leaving you!’ Jim exclaimed, baulking at the thought. ‘First of all, it’s just as dangerous for you as it is for me, and second of all, I’m the Captain. I can’t leave!’

Spock shook his head, brow creasing.

‘My psychic abilities, limited though they may be, are strong enough to equip me with far more of a defence against Faeral than you have. I have been forced to see you captured twice, to see you traumatised twice, and I cannot allow it to happen again. You are my bondmate, and I _will_ protect you from harm.’

Even though Spock’s clear protectiveness made Jim’s heart flutter, he wouldn’t just slink away like a coward and allow his fiancé to face the bastard alone.

‘Spock, I couldn’t live with myself if I left and something happened to you. You’re mine to protect as much as I’m yours.’

‘Jim, see reason,’ Spock pleaded, but Jim shook his head stubbornly.

‘No, love. We’re a team, remember?’

Spock looked poised to argue further, but then the door swung noisily open, and Faeral came stomping in like a child mid-tantrum. His expression was irate, but the intimidation that Jim might have felt was lessened by Spock rising to his feet beside him. Jim followed suit, strengthened by his presence.

_‘So,’_ Faeral hissed, through gritted teeth, ‘Lover boy has arrived to save the day. How disgustingly predictable.’

‘Hardly as predictable as your predilection for abduction,’ Spock said icily, stepping at once forwards and sideways so that Jim was partially concealed. ‘You have no morality, and no chance of succeeding to a throne that has been lost. End this.’

Faeral scoffed, bitterness twisting his features.

‘And what power do you think you have to stop me? I will take the throne, I will kill you and all who oppose me, and perhaps I will even keep your Captain as a pet.’

Jim’s stomach jolted as Faeral gave him a horrible grin, torn between anger and terror.

‘It’s rather fun to see him react to apparitions. Perhaps I might be able to make him cry.’

Jim’s mouth opened in a snarl, but Spock snapped before he could.

‘Enough!’

It was extremely rare for Spock to raise his voice in anger, but this demand was shouted, loudly enough that the sound echoed off the walls. Reality flickered, and in a moment of disorientation, Jim stumbled back against the wall, only to find the brickwork changed, and the cell before him evaporated to reveal a room very much in line with the rest of the Parliament building. The pain was gone from his arm and his head, and he looked down to see that the break had miraculously mended, his uniform shirt intact and undisturbed.

‘Enough,’ Spock repeated, far more quietly, but with an unmistakeable edge of steel that matched the fierceness of his expression.

Faeral looked slightly stunned; perhaps even a little unnerved, but he recovered himself quickly.

‘You _dare_ try and oppose me? You, whose psychic powers are so limited that they can barely be called such?’

‘I will oppose any being whose behaviour is tyrannical. I will oppose any being who tries to harm my Captain.’

Laughing scornfully, Faeral spat purple-tinged saliva on the floor at Spock’s feet. Enraged, Jim made to advance upon him, but he was prevented from doing so by the hand that flew out to keep him close.

‘This is what I think of your Captain,’ Faeral hissed, ignoring an increasingly-agitated Jim. ‘He is weak, and unsuitable to lead.’

_‘Kroykah.’_

Jim was indignant, but his anger paled in comparison to the rage pulsing through Spock’s side of the bond. Through his uniform shirt, Jim could see his muscles drawn bow-string tight, and it seemed that his mouth was barely concealing a snarl. Although most would back down from a Vulcan clearly at the edge of his control, it only seemed to goad Faeral on, his chest swelling as he drew himself up with a vicious air of arrogance.

‘Why should I?’ he laughed, the sound almost hysterical in its twisted fury. ‘I don’t answer to you. I don’t answer to anyone. You will order your crew to leave Euridian, and you will inform your Federation that the king does not want further interference.’

‘You don’t give the orders here,’ Jim spat, refusing to quail beneath Faeral’s manic stare. ‘The people have outgrown y-’

Jim’s words were cut harshly short as Faeral’s hand curled into a fist, and he was crippled by an agonising pain that made him cry out. He felt himself crumple to the floor, and bit his tongue until he tasted blood in the effort to not show weakness as liquid fire spread insidiously through his head. He was peripherally aware of Spock moving, but was unable to concentrate on anything but the agony that forced him to clutch at either side of his head, his vision swimming. There was a growled slew of Vulcan, and just as Jim thought he couldn’t take any more, the pain disappeared as if a switch had been flicked. Bleary-eyed, he looked up to see Faeral pinned haphazardly against the wall by Spock, fear licking at his mutinous expression. Spock’s eyes were wild – _feral_ even – the ferocity in his face starkly visible in the curl of his lip and flash of his teeth. It would have been terrifying, had Jim not known that it was all for him.

‘All this for your little whore,’ Faeral said softly, apparently oblivious to Spock’s snarl, and the tightening of the arm against his neck. Feeling a flash of anger, Jim stumbled to his feet, meeting his eyes furiously. ‘What chance do either of you have against me?’

His shaking hand lifted once more, with a deranged finality that had Jim cringing inside, but he never got the chance to hurt Jim again.

_‘Hiyet!’_

It was a rough, desperate cry, and in one rapid movement, Spock’s hand took the place of his arm, the resulting grisly snap loud enough to echo. Jim watched dumbly as Faeral’s body slid down against the wall, his sightless eyes boring into him, and his limbs fallen limp.

A breath.

Processing what had just happened was difficult with the swimming vision and pounding heart that remained, but even so, when Jim felt warm arms slide around him, he knew he was safe. He all but collapsed into Spock, knowing that his weight would be taken with ease, and surrendered to the shuddering breaths that had been trying to force their way out of him since the moment they had been discovered.

‘Shhh, taluhk-veh.’

A gentle, long-fingered hand carded through his sweat-damp hair, rhythmic in its caress. Exhausted by the ordeal, Jim took the comfort without comment, grateful more than ever for Spock – as much as a First Officer as a bondmate.

‘It Is over now.’

‘I know,’ Jim said hoarsely, pulling back and opening his eyes to meet Spock’s troubled eyes. ‘Thank you for doing that for me. ‘I know it must have been difficult.’

Spock shook his head, eyes gentle.

‘While I am opposed to violence in any form, the threat to your life was not something that I could accept. I would do the same again to keep you safe.’

Despite their situation, the corners of Jim’s lips tugged upwards in a tired smile, his shoulders aching as he finally allowed his muscles to relax.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Spock replied softly, his hands sliding away. ‘Come, we should leave.’

‘We should,’ Jim echoed, glancing back at the body lying awkwardly against the wall, and failing to repress a shiver.

Spock guided him towards the crawlspace through which he had entered, and Jim led the way across, wincing as gravel embedded itself in his hands. When he climbed awkwardly out into their original prison, not only was Eana there, but the rest of the away party too. Uhura was the first to notice them, turning with a wide, relieved smile.

‘Captain! Are you both all right?’

Jim nodded, lips twitching briefly upwards as he drew strength from the hope and faith in his crewmembers’ faces.

‘Faeral’s dead,’ he announced, to a flurry of exclamations and questions. Holding up his hand, he turned first to Eana, whose shock was painted clearly across her face.

‘How?’ she questioned eagerly, the cringing, tearful creature of before gone completely. ‘What happened?’

‘He threatened to kill the Captain,’ Spock replied, stepping forward. It was only as he did so that Jim saw the dried green blood on his hands; frowning, he resolved to force him into Medbay at the earliest opportunity. ‘When he moved in a way that indicated he was about to fulfil that threat, I did what was necessary.’

‘Thank you,’ Eana breathed, gratitude shining in her eyes. ‘You cannot know the liberation his death brings to my people.’

Although he could feel Spock’s lingering grudge, Jim felt sympathy for her. He baulked at the thought of his own family being held to ransom by that monster, and though he hoped that he would have done differently in that situation, he knew that her actions were not driven by malice.

‘I think I do, actually.’

She hesitated, then nodded, an understanding flowing between them.

‘Nevertheless, I am grateful. Now, we can truly rebuild.’

Jim smiled wanly, turning his attention to Giotto, who stood as stoic as ever by Uhura.

‘Lieutenant,’ he began, amused by the way Giotto drew himself upright, ‘how did you manage to get in here?’

‘When it became clear that nothing good was happening down here, we subdued the remaining guards, and began trying to batter our way through. It was only recently that we managed it.’

‘Maybe when Faeral died,’ Jim mused, looking up as a number of dark-robed Euridians came hurtling down the stairs.

‘Prime Minister!’

‘Urla,’ Eana exclaimed, beaming. ‘I thought you’d been killed!’

Urla shook her head, looking a little bruised, but otherwise well.

‘Quite a number of us were merely locked away,’ she explained, gesturing at a rather bewildered-looking guard. ‘Others were psychically manipulated.’

‘Guess he wanted some people left to rule over,’ Jim suggested, smiling at Eana’s overjoyed expression.

‘Perhaps so.’

‘As positive as these new developments are,’ Spock cut in, though not rudely. ‘I think it would be best that we return to the ship in order to debrief.’

‘And visit Medbay,’ Jim agreed, eyeing Spock’s hands pointedly, before projecting his voice to the group. ‘I want every single scrape checked out, even if you don’t think it’s an issue. Understood?’

There were various mutterings of reluctant assent; satisfied, Jim turned back to Eana.

‘We have a _lot_ to talk about, but as I’m sure you’ll appreciate, we need time to recuperate.’

Eana nodded, eyes wandering to her decimated group.

‘I think a few days of recovery might be prudent for ourselves as well. I will be in contact once we are more settled.’

‘Great,’ Jim replied, eager to be out of the place. ‘Uhura, can I, uh, can I borrow your communicator? Mine’s gone AWOL.’

She handed it over with a quiet huff of laughter, and a few moments later, Jim found himself on the transporter platform beside Spock. He had never been so relieved to see his lady.

‘All right, everyone. Quick debrief before Medbay. Any objections to doing it here?’

He was grateful when nobody protested, worried about the state of Spock’s hands, and feeling about ready to collapse. It had been hard enough being separated from Spock with the new bond, but all of Faeral’s trickery had left him feeling as if he had a fresh wound inside his head, the ache of it startlingly intense. The debrief was short, seeing as most of Faeral’s actions had been targeted at Jim and Spock, and Jim was glad when the group dispersed. He hauled Spock down to Medbay as soon as he could, and found Bones waiting for them, arms folded.

‘I was wondering when you two would show up.’

‘We’ve literally just arrived back on the ship,’ Jim whined, nudging Spock towards him. ‘Spock’s hands are sore.’

Bones swore when he saw the state of them, ripping open an antiseptic wipe packet with his teeth as he (thankfully) grabbed Spock’s wrist to hold his hand up to the light.

‘What the hell happened?’ he demanded, scowling at the torn fingernails as if they personally offended him.

‘Careful,’ Jim warned, after seeing a minute wince on Spock’s face. ‘You’re hurting him.’

‘Sorry,’ Bones said shortly, gentling his hands as he disinfected the wounds, then reached for the dermal regenerator.

‘It is of no consequence, Doctor. To answer your question: I was attempting to open a door which separated myself from Jim.’

Jim leaned into Spock, hating that he had got hurt trying to rescue him. Now that he had had a little time to adjust back to being on the ship, he felt completely drained, and he found himself leaning not just for comfort, but for support. Dizziness blurred his vision, and he blinked rapidly to clear it, waving away Spock’s quiet expression of concern.

‘Doctor,’ Spock alerted, and in spite of Jim’s protesting, Bones was soon in his face, tricorder buzzing around him. ‘Faeral caused him great pain.’

‘How?’ Bones snapped, ushering Jim over to a biobed without any room for argument.

‘He did something to my head,’ Jim grimaced, grateful for Spock’s support as he was all but lifted onto the bed. ‘Whatever it was, it hurt like a bitch. Spock, your hands…’

‘Are healed,’ Spock said smoothly, to which Bones gave a short nod, shining a light in Jim’s eyes.

‘It’s probably just shock, but I’d like to keep an eye on you for a few hours at least. What happened to that slippery bastard anyway?’

‘He’s dead,’ Jim replied numbly, feeling way too cold for being under the blinding lights of Medbay. He thought maybe Bones was right about the shock. ‘Spock killed him.’

Bones’ eyebrows shot up, and Spock hastened to clarify.

‘He was going to kill Jim. I could not allow that to happen.’

‘Of course not,’ Bones growled, grasping and squeezing Jim’s shoulder for a long, drawn-out moment. ‘I’m glad you’re still with us, kid. And that that son of a bitch is dead. I’m signing you both off for a few days, but I want you in here until at least the end of Beta, y’hear?’

Closing his eyes, Jim made an incoherent grumbling sound, but that was mostly for show; a bed with Spock in it was a bed with Spock in it.

‘And you-’

‘I will stay, Doctor,’ Spock interrupted, gently laying Jim down against the mattress.

‘Well, good,’ Bones blustered, tone softening as he approached the bed. ‘I’ll keep a close eye on his vitals, but I think he needs good old fashioned TLC more than anything. Let him sleep for now. Keep him warm.’

Jim submitted gratefully to the hands pulling off his boots, and curled into Spock as a heated blanket was pulled over him, only now feeling the bite of cold in his extremities. Voices buzzed over him, and a warm hand ruffled his hair affectionately, before the light filtering through his closed eyelids disappeared. Anxiety flaring, he forced his eyes open, but Spock shushed him gently, pointing to the dim light above.

‘You are safe. Sleep, my Jim. I will watch over you.’

Jim relaxed into the cradle of his arms, feeling warm and protected. Soft lips ghosted across his own, a thumb stroked gently across his temple, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I'm glad Faeral's gone, and I'm sure Jim and Spock are too! And now, at last, it's time for them both to heal. Did any of you recognise the song that Faeral was singing in the beginning, by the way?
> 
> I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I've been writing snippets for a long time, and I'm very glad that the boys (and Euridian, of course) are free of Faeral. Please do let me know in the comments if you did enjoy it, and it would also be really helpful if those of you on tumblr could reblog my fic posts. They're all in [this](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-of-his-soul) tag here on my tumblr, where you'll also find writing updates, etc. I'm also planning on making a masterlist at some point, but we'll see.
> 
> Have a great weekend, everyone!


	24. And When The Sun Shines

The three days for which Spock and Jim were relieved from duty were precious, and far too few for Spock’s liking. Never before had he wished for more leisure time, but with a brand new bondmate to love – a traumatised one, nonetheless – he could not help but regret that they were not on shore leave. With both the Admiralty and Eana notified of their brief absence, Spock spent his days nurturing his bond with Jim, soothing his long-reinforced insecurity and fear of abandonment with his presence. For the most part, they remained in their quarters, indulging the closeness their bond demanded. Consummation was not Spock’s focus, particularly with Jim recovering from his ordeal, but he quite enthusiastically complied when Jim tentatively initiated sexual activity. Mostly, though, both were content with simply being together, learning one another, and strengthening their connection.

On this day, the fourth since their return, both of them were scheduled to work on Beta shift, which Spock appreciated. Jim was beginning to wake, shifting out of the deep sleep that he had sorely needed, his breath shallowing. Letting the hand that had rested upon his waist glide up over his back, Spock bent to nuzzle at his exposed ear, enamoured by its difference to his own. Jim moaned sleepily as he kissed and licked at the rounded tip, tightening his arms, limpet-like, around Spock’s body.

‘Ashaya,’ Spock whispered fondly, running a hand through his tousled hair.

Huffing a long, drawn-out breath through his nose, Jim stretched out his legs beneath the blanket, mumbling incoherently as he pushed a knee between Spock’s thighs.

‘I did not hear you, beloved.’

‘Said I wanna stay here for like… ten years.’

Spock allowed his lips to curve in a soft smile, kissing the top of his head.

‘You would get hungry before too long,’ he murmured, inhaling deeply to catch his warm, comforting scent. ‘You would also be bored.’

‘M’never bored with you, honey,’ Jim argued. He pushed his nose into the juncture between Spock’s neck and shoulder with a short sigh. ‘But I suppose we have to, y’know… live our lives.’

He rolled onto his side enough that Spock could see his lovely face, eyes soft and half-lidded. His bare chest was sorely tempting, and Jim knew it, judging by his impish expression, and the flush of arousal through the bond.

‘Think we’ve got a little time for ourselves first?’

Spock needed no time to consider. He wanted Jim with a frequency that might have alarmed him once, but in the safe confines of their relationship, he had since accepted his frequent arousal as a natural reaction to both their bond, and Jim’s incomparable beauty.

‘Absolutely.’

Reaching up to stroke his thumb over Jim’s cheek, he leant in to kiss him softly, feeling Jim’s arms come around him in return as he enthusiastically reciprocated, wriggling beneath Spock’s body. As ever, Spock was in awe of the trust that Jim had in him after so much adversity, and in spite of his passion, he refused to treat Jim with anything but the reverence he so deserved. Deepening the kiss, he trailed his free hand down the swell of Jim’s chest, taking a pebbled nipple between finger and thumb and worrying it gently. Jim arched up with a muffled whimper, sliding his fingers through Spock’s hair as he licked into his mouth, drawing his tongue across Spock’s palate in a way that made him shiver.

_Need you._

There was an edge of desperation to his inner voice, enough to make Spock take hold of his hand and lace their fingers together, pulling back to look into his eyes.

 _You have me,_ Spock assured him, a quiet moan escaping as Jim squeezed his hand. _Always. Taluhk nash-veh k’dular._

_I love you too. So much._

Jim’s eyes were wet and bright as he pulled Spock back down into a fierce kiss, wrapping a leg around his waist. It was going to be quick today; they might have had the time for a long session of lovemaking, but not the patience. Spock could feel him hard and hot against his hip, rutting desperately through the silky fabric of his boxer shorts, and the wetness seeping through enflamed him, knowing that Jim’s desperate arousal was for him alone.

‘Off,’ Jim demanded hoarsely, tugging at his pyjama pants with shaking hands until Spock took over with little more surety, divesting them both of their clothing before settling back atop Jim.

As always, he took a second or two to check that Jim was still well and willing, but there was nothing but desire in both his eyes and in the bond. He panted below Spock with kiss-swollen lips and a beatific smile, a flush of arousal painted across his cheeks and his heaving chest.

‘You okay, babe?’ he asked breathlessly, and Spock nodded, struck dumb by the sight before him. He heard Jim’s breath catch as he smoothed a hand down the soft, smooth stomach towards his straining cock, drawing the pad of a finger up the full length of it. A tiny noise of pleasure escaped Jim, his lips parting erotically, and Spock momentarily forgot about his own desire in the overwhelming urge to sate him. He smoothed his fingers in a Vulcan kiss up and down until Jim was quivering, hips shifting and cock leaking onto his belly.

‘Spock, please,’ Jim whined, sighing in pleasure as Spock took pity on him and took hold of his erection, stroking him firmly.

Spock found his own breath coming quickly, aroused to an almost painful degree as Jim writhed beneath his touch, pushing into his hand. He smoothed his thumb through the warm wetness at the tip of Jim’s cock, eliciting a whimper as he circled the slit and a cry as he flicked over the frenulum, feeling his t’hy’la’s building pleasure like a cresting wave. He was disarmed when Jim suddenly pushed his hand away; preparing to back off in case Jim was experiencing discomfort, he was instead pulled down into a passion-filled kiss that stole his breath, surrendering without protest to Jim’s clever tongue.

‘Sweetheart,’ Jim whispered hotly, pulling away with desire-blown pupils. Much as Spock loved the beautiful, electric blue of his eyes, he could not deny that seeing him this way only increased his arousal. _‘Adun.’_

Spock shuddered at the word, crying out as Jim leant up to suck at the point of his ear, the sensation leaving him dripping.

‘Yeah, baby, I can feel you,’ Jim breathed, grinding up into him. ‘Mmm, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?’

_‘Jim.’_

He did not know what exactly he was asking for – perhaps a touch; a kiss – but it seemed that Jim took pity on him. His eyes softened, and he brushed his lips against Spock’s once more, reaching down to gently take hold of his erection and align it with his own. Spock jerked at the touch, and they both moaned at the wet glide of his first thrust, so close that they were breathing one another in.

‘Like this, k’diwa?’

‘Yes,’ Jim choked, wrapping a leg around his hip. ‘Just like that.’

As Spock began to move in earnest, driven on by Jim’s cries, their fingers laced tightly together. Spock was not sure which of them had moved to do so, but it did not matter. The need to feel close during their lovemaking had not diminished, and Spock hoped it never would. The slick friction between them was delicious, a soft, wet catch that left him shuddering and Jim’s fingers tightening in his. Pleasure was curling low in his belly, and he could no longer contain his vocalisations, his moaning all but drowned out by Jim’s ragged gasps as he neared the end.

‘Spock!’ he wailed, back bowing as he came between them, hot semen pulsing thickly over Spock’s erection.

Rhythm faltering, Spock drove forward a few times more before coming with a cry, shuddering as Jim gently stroked his fingers. He collapsed over Jim, trying and failing to take some of his own weight, but Jim only held him close.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart. I can take it.’

Spock relaxed, in spite of the quickly-cooling mess between them, pressing a suckling kiss to Jim’s pulse point.

‘You are a wonder, t’hy’la,’ he said roughly.

He felt Jim’s smile grow against his crown, and a hand combed carefully through his hair.

‘People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.’

Spock detached himself enough to make his raised eyebrow visible, but Jim only raised one right back, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose.

‘Don’t even try it,’ he said fondly, stroking a thumb over his eyebrow. ‘I know you know what I mean.’

Spock could not suppress a twitch of his lips, content in silence for the moment. Before long, however, he realised that even lying with his beloved was not enough to distract him from the discomfort of drying semen.

‘Adun,’ he said hesitantly, ‘we are rather sticky.’

‘Hmm, we should probably get up,’ Jim acknowledged, sighing heavily. It looked for a moment as if he were going to move, but then he relaxed back against the mattress. ‘In a minute.’

Spock resigned himself to lying in his own filth for a few moments longer, but then – horrifyingly – came a knock on the door. There was a second of stillness, during which he and Jim exchanged a wide-eyed glance, and then movement exploded between them.

‘Just a minute!’ Jim called, wiping himself off with the bedsheets, before flinging them towards Spock to do the same. ‘Just- I won’t be a minute.’

Swiftly, both dressed themselves in appropriate clothing – Spock, in full-length civilian clothes; Jim, in the sweatpants and t-shirt he had closest to hand – before Jim reached for the door release.

‘Oh, hey, Uhura.’

She eyed them both critically from the doorway, and Spock felt heat rise to his face as she looked Jim up and down, amusement and discomfort warring in her expression.

‘You two aren’t fooling anyone.’

The heat spread to the tips of Spock’s ears, but Jim appeared unfazed.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he sniffed, folding his arms.

Nyota snorted, leaning against the closed door as she waved her hand towards Jim.

‘If I couldn’t already tell what’s been going on from your body language… you’ve got your shirt on backwards, Jim.’

Jim went scarlet, and Spock blinked, surprised that he had not realised before. He responded to the panicked, accusatory look from Jim with wide eyes, conveying the sensation of shrugging internally through the bond.

_I did not notice, t’hy’la._

‘Well,’ Jim sniffed, attempting to save face. ‘At least I didn’t answer the door with _no_ shirt on.’

‘At least then I’d have had some eye candy,’ Nyota said dryly, to which Jim responded with an explosive laugh, and Spock with a raised eyebrow.

‘Hey, I’m not _just_ a looker, y’know. I’ve got brains too.’

‘Don’t I know it?’ Nyota grinned, sincerity shining through her sarcastic tone. Not for the first time, Spock appreciated the admiration that the crew held for Jim, particularly as his intelligence had not always been recognised in the past.

‘While we certainly appreciate your visit,’ Spock began, stepping forward, ‘is there a particular reason that you are here, Nyota?’

She nodded, the grin fading to a far softer smile as she raised her hand to reveal a small box resting in her palm. She held it out to Spock, who took it with reverence, almost certain that he knew what was inside.

‘Xrat is a genius; I hope you know that. They didn’t want to give you the rings in person because they didn’t want to see your faces if you didn’t like them. I said that was nonsense because the rings are gorgeous – take a look!’

As Jim crowded against him, excitement flooding the both of them, Spock cracked open the box to reveal two beautiful silver rings, polished so finely that their shine seemed almost to be luminescence. Jim made a soft sound of joy beside him, and with careful fingers, Spock took one out of its casing, holding it up to the light. There, in immaculate Vulcan script, was a word that had become impossibly important to Spock.

‘What does it say?’ Jim asked impatiently, stroking the rise of the second ring with reverence of his own.

Spock allowed a gentle gush of love across the bond, pushing with it an explanation.

_T’hy’la._

‘Oh,’ Jim said shakily, joyfully. ‘They’re beautiful.’

‘They are,’ Spock agreed, voice soft.

They shared a moment of elated amazement, admiring the clear skill and care that had evidently gone into making their rings, before they were interrupted by Nyota.

‘Xrat wanted you to try them on for size, but I think I’ll leave you for that. I’ll be on Gamma, but… I’m glad you’re both back on duty.’

‘Thanks,’ Jim smiled, and Spock inclined his head, grateful as ever for her friendship.

‘Thank you, Nyota.’

She left with a wave, and Spock turned back to his love, resting the ring box upon his desk.

‘Your hand, t’hy’la.’

Jim waited until the door had closed behind Nyota before holding out his hand for Spock to take, his breath hitching as Spock slowly slid one of the rings onto his fourth finger. It fit perfectly, as expected. Although both of them knew that this moment was a mere trial run for another, far more important day, it still held great importance for them. Sliding the ring onto Jim’s finger felt like a commitment in itself, and Jim seemed to feel the same, clasping Spock’s hand tightly for a long moment with a soft smile.

‘Now you,’ he murmured, reaching for him.

Spock held out his hand willingly, shivering as Jim let it rest upon his own palm, taking the other ring between finger and thumb. Jim’s hand was shaking, and so it took him a little longer to hook the ring over the tip of Spock’s finger, but once he had done so, he pushed it firmly down into place. Spock could not help the quiet mewl that escaped him as his finger was stimulated by the tightness of it, catching sight of Jim’s satisfied grin as a wave of arousal engulfed them both.

‘Like that, honey? It means you’re mine.’

‘I am already yours,’ Spock said weakly, and Jim’s grin softened into a giddy smile as he lifted Spock’s hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it.

‘And I’m yours,’ he replied softly, smoothing his thumb over the place he had just kissed. ‘I’m so excited to marry you.’

Spock nodded in dazed agreement, allowing himself to be pulled into a warm embrace, tracing the outline of the muscles in Jim’s shoulders through his shirt. Often, at times like this, he found himself overwhelmed by the knowledge that he, the loathed half-breed of ShiKahr, had found his destined mate. Many times, those around him had spoken of his defectiveness, of what an abomination he was, and that he should never have existed in the first place, let alone be allowed to continue to pollute pure Vulcan blood. Yet here he was, in the arms of a man who loved him unconditionally; a man who would be his bondmate, his husband, and the father of his children. Jim made him believe in luck.

‘You make me believe in miracles,’ Jim whispered, kissing his temple gently. ‘And I’m honoured to have you as my bondmate. My t’hy’la.’

Spock buried his face in Jim’s neck, close to tears. A large, warm hand stroked his back as he trembled, fighting for control, and he could not help but clutch at Jim like the lifeline that he was.

‘Shhh, love. I’m here. I always will be.’

It seemed that Spock wasn’t entirely unaffected by almost losing Jim again. Though he had spent the last few days making sure that Jim was as emotionally well as he could be, he had not realised quite how much he had been repressing his own trauma until now. He had once more seen his t’hy’la on the brink of death, and had been so close to being unable to prevent it happening. As Jim stroked his hair, murmuring sweet nonsense into his ear, he could not stop the tears brimming in his eyes from spilling over.

‘I am sorry,’ he choked, trembling finely. ‘I am sorry, Jim.’

‘Don’t be,’ Jim soothed, cuddling him close. ‘You haven’t given yourself the chance to cry. I love you, sweetheart.’

‘I love you too,’ Spock whispered, giving in to the comfort he was being offered. He took a few minutes to gather himself, safe in the knowledge that Jim would stay with him for as long as possible, then stepped back with a sigh.

‘Thank you, ashal-veh. I had not realised quite how compromised I had become.’

Jim smiled, combing his hair back and stroking down over his cheek before letting go.

‘How many times have you held me as I cried? I’m glad to do it; you needed it.’

He looked down at his hand, and carefully twisted the ring off his finger, holding it as if it were a precious thing.

‘I guess we should take these off until the wedding,’ he said softly, holding out his hand for Spock’s once more. ‘We’ll have to thank Ensign Xrat. They’re beautiful.’

‘They are,’ Spock agreed, shuddering as Jim gently slid the ring from his finger. ‘And we shall, but I think perhaps a shower is in order first.’

Jim nodded, wrinkling his nose as he unashamedly stripped off his shirt.

‘I could do without the remnants of dried come on me. Want to, uh, save some water?’

‘Are you asking me to shower with you, Jim?’

‘Only if you want to,’ Jim said flirtatiously, letting his trousers drop to the floor. He had not bothered to put underwear on beneath them.

Spock ran his eyes over his body with covetous desire, letting his teeth sink into his lower lip in a way that he knew inflamed Jim. With a raised eyebrow and a sultry look over his shoulder, he made for the fresher, stripping off along the way. He was not surprised to hear Jim’s footsteps behind him.

\--------------------

‘We’re getting married.’

The ensuing sigh was so long and deep that Spock was briefly concerned that Admiral Zhang was experiencing breathing difficulties. She looked at them with weary desolation, as if seeing the miles of necessary paperwork stretching before her.

‘You boys love to give me trouble, don’t you? It was a difficult enough job trying to get the Admiralty to approve your relationship; I can imagine there’ll be a fair few pitching a fit at a wedding announcement.’

‘With all due respect, Admiral,’ Jim began, his formal tone belying the fact that he was holding Spock’s hand beneath the table. ‘We are already bonded in the Vulcan way, so there’s little that can be done about it.’

Zhang opened her mouth with an expression that suggested she was about to argue, but Spock spoke before she could.

‘In accordance with the agreement between the Vulcan High Council and the Federation Council, bonded mates cannot be forcibly separated in organisations such as Starfleet. The Va-Pak has decimated our population, and I guarantee that my father, the ambassador, and T’Pau would defend the validity of our bond if necessary.’

The Admiral inclined her head, sitting back in her chair with a tight smile.

‘Please understand that I do not personally disapprove of your relationship. Congratulations on your engagement, and on your bonding. But the possibility of compromise in a Command team…’

‘We work far better together than apart,’ Jim insisted, gently squeezing Spock’s hand. ‘And we know that duty comes first. It has to.’

Zhang sat in silence for a long moment, then set her jaw, and nodded reluctantly.

‘It seems that the Admiralty has little choice in the matter anyway. I will send you across the _extensive_ paperwork you must complete and send back to me. All that aside, how are you both? I can imagine that the recent crisis on Euridian has been difficult.’

Difficult was an understatement. Spock remained angry that the Admiralty had almost sent Jim to his death, but having his beloved here and well soothed the bitterness somewhat.

‘It’s not exactly been fun and games,’ Jim said flatly. ‘I’ve been kidnapped and tortured _twice._ Spock has been forced to kill against everything he stands for, and my crew has been pushed into a dangerous and frightening situation.’

‘I know,’ Zhang admitted, lacing her fingers together on the desk before her. ‘There is something I have to tell you that I hope will ease the frustration, at least a little. The Vulcan High Council has already been in contact with us to petition for the removal of certain members of the Admiralty on your behalf. Just yesterday, Admiral Beech – who was most adamant that the mission continue – was discharged from Starfleet, and a number of others have been demoted or resigned. Going forward, you will at least find a more cautious Command to which to answer. Nevertheless, I am sorry for all that you have gone through.’

Jim nodded stiffly, and Spock followed his lead, aware that apologies did little to heal the pain they had both suffered.

‘Once you are able to leave Euridian, you have been granted three weeks shore leave at the nearest Starbase in which to recover. This does not include travel time.’

Although Spock would normally view shore leave as a waste of time, he knew that the crew needed it, and it would certainly be welcome to himself and Jim. Indeed, Jim was grinning, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

‘Great! It’s sorely needed, I assure you.’

‘I know,’ the Admiral replied, her own tight-lipped smile on her face. ‘I’d better get started on that paperwork then. Zhang out.’

It was a typically abrupt departure, but Spock did not mind. Neither did Jim, judging by the smile that remained on his face after the screen went dark.

‘Shore leave, thank God.’ He drew his arms around Spock’s neck as they stood, pulling him into an embrace. ‘We can use it as a honeymoon.’

‘We will,’ Spock agreed, brushing his lips against Jim’s forehead. ‘I cannot imagine that the negotiations will take very long. After all, we have already proven ourselves to be allies of the Euridians.’

‘Hopefully,’ Jim sighed, drawing back. ‘C’mon, let’s get ready. I’m sure it’ll feel long enough.’

Their return to Euridian the next morning was not without its troubles for either of them. Although the monster who had caused so much harm to Jim was gone, his shadow lingered, and Spock could see how uncomfortable being on-planet made Jim feel. He had offered to take over the negotiations, but Jim, stubborn as ever, had refused. He sensed Jim’s wish not to seem weak – which he absolutely refuted to be the case – but more so the desire to heal, and to instil in himself better memories relating to Pirilia.

Prime Minister Eana was there to greet them, looking much recovered from the frightened, exhausted shell she had been upon their last visit. Building work was taking place in the ruined courtyard, and she gave them a nervous smile as she beckoned them towards the entrance to the governmental house, seemingly aware of the parallels to her previous deception.

‘Good morning,’ she said warmly, leading them through the main hall to a balcony that Spock had never noticed before. ‘I thought that perhaps being enclosed wasn’t the best idea.’

‘Yeah, this is better,’ Jim muttered, a little of the oppressive anxiety lifting in the bond.

They sat at the end of what looked like a dining table, Eana folding her hands nervously before her on the table.

‘We’re just waiting for Urla to arrive. She shouldn’t be too long; she’s currently en route from Xalanthe.’

Spock did not wish to waste words, and neither did Jim apparently, judging by the tight nod that served as a reply. Eana’s shoulders slumped, and while she did not look away, her face darkened with shame.

‘I… I did not get the chance to truly apologise for what I did,’ she said quietly, eyes flicking between them. ‘I put myself before your people, and for that I am truly sorry. My intentions were good in the beginning, but I was not cautious enough, and that allowed Faeral to insidiously take over. My judgement became skewed, and – well – you know the rest. I can never thank you enough for what you have done for our people, in destroying him.’

There were replies that Spock could have made, but Jim had almost been the most eloquent speaker in matters of emotion. He looked to his Captain expectantly, and Jim threw him a quick, soft glance before taking the lead.

‘You didn’t put yourself first, Eana. You put your _children_ first, and while I don’t exactly appreciate the extra pain I received because of your actions, I can’t say that I wouldn’t do the same.’ His eyes flicked towards Spock once more, and remained upon him for his next sentence. ‘Love has power like nothing else.’

‘Indeed,’ Spock said quietly, feeling a flush of joy at his attention.

‘How are your children?’

‘They are well, thank you,’ Eana smiled, her gills fluttering. ‘My daughter does not remember most of what she was made to do, which is a blessing. My family is here with me at last.’

A soft smile graced her face – far softer than Spock had ever seen from her – before she visibly sobered.

‘I considered stepping down, both because of my children, and because of my… acquiescence. I had doubts about my ability to carry my people through this period of uncertainty, but I was persuaded against that course of action. I have endured far worse than this, and Euridian deserves no more instability.’

Her eyes flicked from Jim to Spock as she shrugged helplessly, a great burden appearing to rest upon her.

‘Besides,’ she said quietly, ‘the majority of my best and brightest are dead.’

‘I grieve with thee,’ Spock offered, to which she inclined her head, mustering a wan smile.

‘Thank you. We will endure nonetheless. If there is anything you should know about our people, it is that they are hardy. But now they are free.’

Spock’s sharp hearing caught the patter of footsteps, and no sooner had Eana finished her sentence than three little ones came tearing outside, appearing at first glance to be Euridian children. With wide eyes and reaching hands, they clamoured for her attention, the smallest calling ‘Mama! Mama!’ as he attempted to crawl into her lap.

‘I am so sorry,’ Eana flushed, attempting to wrangle them. She emitted a soft, whistling noise – an untranslatable word, it seemed – before lifting the youngest onto her hip. ‘Children, where is your mother?’

‘It’s all right,’ Jim assured her, grinning at the apparent eldest, who lingered at Eana’s side, staring warily.

One of the girls appeared very interested in them, but Spock in particular, pointing up at his ears with delight.

‘Hello, little one,’ Spock said politely, and she broke into a beaming smile. The sharp teeth were slightly unnerving in one so young. ‘What is your name?’

‘Thena!’ she chirped, preening before them. ‘What are you?’

‘Thena!’

‘It’s okay, honestly,’ Jim laughed. Spock raised an eyebrow, although not unkindly, and she giggled much like a human child. Or, perhaps, a half-human child. ‘Spock and I are from other planets. He is a Vulcan, and I’m a Human.’

She eyed them with bemusement, gawping in the way that only children can, before closing her mouth and shrugging.

‘Okay.’

‘I’m glad we have your approval, child,’ Spock teased gently, amusement flashing through the bond.

‘We just need to talk to your mama for a while,’ Jim explained. ‘Isn’t that right, Eana?’

She nodded, looking slightly harassed as she tried to stand with her son clinging to her, but then Spock’s attention was caught by a sharp knock against the open balcony door. He was not surprised to see Urla standing there, but he was by the expression upon her face. Her demeanour, as ever, was stoic, but her eyes were gentle as she looked upon the children, and the little boy who had been clambering over Eana scrambled off her lap and ran towards Urla.

‘Ma!’

Spock blinked in surprise; a sentiment which was clearly shared by Jim. Urla hoisted the boy into her arms, settling him on her hip and swiping a hand fondly through his fine hair.

‘How did you three get away from Feia, hmm?'

Thena giggled, and even her quiet sister’s lips twitched as she turned towards Urla. Barely a few seconds later, a young guard stumbled onto the balcony, eyes wide with panic.

‘There you are!’ she gasped, bent over as she panted. ‘I swear, I turn away for two seconds…’

‘Go with Feia, children,’ Eana said quietly, squeezing her daughter’s hand. ‘We will see you soon.’

Feia accepted the little one as he was handed over, and the eldest girl went to her willingly, silent in her obedience. Thena, however, lingered for a moment, staring at them until Urla gently ushered her towards her caretaker with a hand on her back.

‘Go, Thena.’

Thena, perhaps less affected by the recent trauma than her sister, threw her mother a mutinous look as she went, dragging her feet all the way. Feia led them inside, shutting the door after her, and Spock felt Jim’s lingering warmth like a candle flame inside him.

‘Cute kids.’

‘Thank you,’ Eana smiled, her eyes soft as she watched Urla come to sit beside her. ‘We have missed them greatly.’

‘I am sure,’ Spock said warmly, imagining with a tightening in his throat how difficult it would be to leave behind his own children with Jim. He was not sure that he could.

 _Me neither,_ Jim added, his voice a caress through Spock’s mind. _I’ve lived through that. It’s hard._

He cleared his throat, sitting up straight as he spoke out loud.

‘I didn’t know you two were in a relationship.’

Eana smiled knowingly, eyes flicking between the two of them in a way that made Spock feel as if he were stripped bare.

‘You are not the only ones to have your partner by your side in more than one way. Come, let us begin. I’d like to think that we understand each other well enough now that this shouldn’t take too long.’

‘Agreed,’ Spock commented, looking to Jim, who was once more exuding the confidence that he had been lacking at times over the last few weeks. Metaphorically, he stepped back, and allowed Jim to begin anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm starting to tie things up, and the next chapter will be the last, although - I hope that some of you will be pleased to know - I will be writing a little follow-up oneshot in the same universe! Please leave me a comment if you liked it - I truly appreciate them! Also, if any of you follow my blog, I'd be really grateful if you could reblog my chapter post, under the 'captain of his soul' tag :)
> 
> As for the final chapter, it will almost definitely be four weeks or so before it's up. It will be longer than usual, and there are things going on currently that are preventing me from writing. Firstly, I've just been diagnosed with something that makes me consistently very tired, and until treatment is sorted, I'm struggling to stay awake after work, let alone long enough to write. Also, there are some significant issues in my close family right now, and obviously I have to put them first. Still, I've already started writing the final chapter, so don't worry that it won't get written! I hope everyone has a fantastic weekend, and please feel free to talk to me on here and via tumblr ask :)


	25. It Will Shine Out The Clearer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a journey. I really hope you all enjoy the final chapter, and I've more to say at the end if you care to read it. Thank you to all of you.

‘Ashal-veh.’

Jim shivered, his lips curving in a slow smile as warm breath met his ear, and strong arms slid around his waist, holding him securely.

‘Hey, baby,’ he said softly, leaning back into Spock’s touch. ‘You ready?’

Lips brushed over the shell of his ear in a way that made his breath catch, and a warm, low voice made pleasure curl in his stomach.

‘Absolutely.’ The arms tightened briefly in an affectionate embrace, before loosening once more. ‘And you, t’hy’la?’

Jim’s smile was irrepressible, and as he thought about the day ahead, he felt giddy with a fluctuating combination of excitement and nerves. His heart fluttered madly, butterfly-winged in his ribcage, and he felt a little like he was floating, a lightness in his head that was entirely unrelated to the way his breath shallowed in Spock’s presence. In the past, Jim would have been embarrassed about his blatant adoration, but he could feel Spock’s own soft emotions lapping gently against his consciousness, and that soothed him. Leaning his full weight back onto Spock, knowing he would take it without comment, he closed his eyes and basked in his affection, tilting his head for the fingers that drew a line of soft Vulcan kisses down his neck.

‘Uh! _No.’_

Jim sighed, cracking open an eye as Spock’s fingers left his neck, and the warm embrace ended. Bones’ face was – naturally – twisted in irritation, and he wagged his finger at Spock as if he were berating a naughty child.

‘Stop canoodlin’, and get out! You’re not meant to see each other before the ceremony! It’s bad luck. _And_ you’re creasing your suits.’

‘I’m so glad you’re concerned for my formalwear,’ Jim deadpanned, watching Spock tug cutely at his suit jacket with twitching lips.

‘Well, _someone_ has to be,’ Bones grumbled, stabbing his finger in Spock’s direction. ‘You’ve got the rest of your lives for this shit; you can last a few hours. Shoo, hobgoblin. Go on, get!’

‘I will go only to adhere to tradition,’ Spock sniffed, eyes softening as he turned to Jim. ‘I will see you soon, Captain.’

Jim loved the way he said that word, the amount of love contained in it almost obscene to the ears, and apparently Bones thought so too, judging by the gagging noise that escaped him.

‘See you soon, sweetheart,’ Jim replied, syrupy sweet. He looped his arms around Spock’s neck and stole a quick kiss before Bones could complain too much, patting him on his behind for good measure as he broke away. _We won’t be apart for long._

_Until then, k’diwa._

If Bones could have slammed the door, he would have done. As it was, he settled for stabbing his finger against the door release extra hard, and turning with a grimly satisfied expression once Spock was no longer in view.

‘Can’t you last five minutes without each other?’ he grumbled, perching on the edge of Jim’s desk.

‘We can, and do, regularly,’ Jim sniffed, ‘but it’s our _wedding day._ That makes me more clingy than usual. In fact, it makes me kind of horny too. I was trying to get him to screw me over the desk, but he wouldn’t, so think yourself lucky you didn’t walk in on _that.’_

‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’

Bones leapt up off the desk like it had burnt him, disgust twisting his features.

‘I said he _wouldn’t.’_

‘Yeah, but the thought of it!’

Jim shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he straightened his tie. Naturally, Bones batted his hand out of the way and took over, his scowl a little half-hearted. Affection bubbled up in Jim until he couldn’t repress a grin, and he squeezed Bones’ arm in a grip tight enough to make his hands drop from the tie.

‘I love you, Bones,’ he said roughly, emotion clogging his voice. He cleared his throat as Bones’ eyes shone briefly with a hint of true affection, before his eyebrows inevitably left orbit.

‘Jim,’ he mock-sighed, ‘your bubble butt is already taken, and quite frankly, I want no part of it.’

‘Hey, you should be so lucky!’

‘I mean, there’s a personality attached to that butt,’ Bones continued blithely, giving him a patented look of judgement that Jim had seen emerging in Joanna, ‘and you’d sure as hell annoy me to death before our first anniversary.’

‘Bones!’

A smile broke across Bones’ face as if he couldn’t quite contain it – small, and sweet.

‘Yeah, yeah, kid,’ he said, just as roughly as Jim. ‘I love you too. And I want you to know that if he ever hurts you, I’ve a whole raft of appropriate drugs in that there office.’

Jim snorted, grateful for his loyalty, if not for his threat against Spock.

‘He won’t, but thanks anyway… What else have you got in there?’

‘That’s none of your damn business,’ Bones said snottily, fiddling with his corsage again. ‘There, much more presentable. And I’m sure Nyota’s whipping Spock into shape right now.’

‘He always looks perfect,’ Jim argued, unsure as to whether he was jealous or appreciative. Glancing up at the chrono, he froze, nerves flooding cold through him. ‘God, Bones, look. It’s nearly time.’

Spock’s calm suffused the bond, searching and soothing, and Jim let out a shuddering sigh. He knew there was no reason to be nervous; he wanted nothing more than to commit to the man he loved in front of his crew, on his silver lady. Still, naturally, some anxiety remained. Projecting his devotion the best he could, he looked up at Bones, who pulled him into a warm bear hug.

‘You’re gonna be fine,’ he assured Jim, pulling back with a firm hand squeezing his shoulder. ‘Knock ‘em dead, darlin’.’

Jim couldn’t help but smile, though there was a sickly, nervous tinge to his excitement.

‘I can’t wait to see him.’

Bones’ eyes softened, his hand sliding from Jim’s shoulder.

‘Bet you can’t,’ he said warmly, beckoning to him as he started towards the door. ‘C’mon, kid, can’t be late for your own wedding.’

With a heady rush of anticipation, Jim followed him through the winding corridors towards the largest observation deck on the ship, which had been mainly decked out by an enthusiastic team led by Uhura.

‘You ready?’ Bones asked, as they stood before the entryway.

Jim’s giddy smile widened until his cheeks ached beneath the strain of it.

‘I was born ready.’

Never one to linger, Bones slammed his hand down on the door release, and the quiet buzz of noise that had travelled through the walls abruptly disappeared. Jim’s eyes immediately zeroed in on Spock, who stood by the glass, the stars shining brightly behind him. Seeing him there with such soft eyes brought a lump to Jim’s throat, and he made his way towards him as if magnetised, ignoring the way Bones swore under his breath and hurried behind him. Spock was beautiful, his suit tailored to perfection, and a shimmer on his eyelids as he dipped his gaze that Jim suspected was down to Uhura. More beautiful than anything else, though, was the fact that his expression was more open than Jim had ever seen it in public, and he felt his eyes sting at the thought of Spock trusting him and their crewmates enough to be so vulnerable.

_You’re so beautiful, baby._

So close now, he could see the gentle flush spread across the apex of Spock’s cheeks, and felt the answering whisper like a caress.

_Vaksurik, taluhk-veh._

As soon as he could reach, Jim held out his hand, taking Spock’s in a loose hold that was enough to send a little shiver rolling through Spock, arousing them both. Jim had his whole world in front of him, and he wanted Spock to know it.

 _Once, I stood here in tears thinking you would never love me,_ he admitted, watching Spock’s eyes fill with sorrow. _When you told me that you did, you made me happier than I’ve ever been before. You’re my life, Spock._

 _And you are mine,_ Spock replied softly, caressing his fingers. _Nothing pleases me more than knowing that I will get to spend the rest of my life with you._

Their shared joy was enough to make Jim want to forego the ceremony and steal him away to ravish him, but as Bones addressed the crowd, for the first time, he truly noticed the number of people surrounding them. Even though shore leave allowed his crew to go wherever they wished during their allotted time off, he was humbled by how many had elected to stay and witness their marriage instead of enjoying the starbase. The gratitude quickly became confusion when he heard what sounded like a baby squealing, and he found the origin at a vidscreen – one of two, in fact – projected onto the wall beside them.

‘Sorry,’ Aurelan mouthed, as Peter burbled happily, but Jim shook his head, smiling. He eyed Spock, who was staring raptly at their squirming nephew, then waved at Peter with childish glee. Beside Peter and his parents were Sarek and Selek, the latter standing with such emotion in his expression that Jim was reminded with bittersweet clarity the relationship between the elder Spock and his own Jim, cut painfully short. He gave them both a shaky smile, strengthened by Spock’s tightening grip on his hand, and turned back to Bones with a cocked eyebrow.

‘Oh, am I allowed to carry on now?’ Bones asked sarcastically, with far less bite to his tone than there might normally have been.

Jim glanced at the crowd of friends and family, all there to wish him and Spock well in their lives together, and took Spock’s other hand in his with stinging eyes. He let out a shaky, tearful breath, and nodded.

The ceremony went by in a blur of pronouncements and kisses and cheering, and before Jim knew it, he and Spock were pressed tightly together on the makeshift dance floor, swaying to the slow, soft music that still played. The lights had long since dimmed, and they had said their goodbyes to both their family on the vidscreens and many of their crewmates, after hours of moving from group to group. This was their time now. Jim closed his eyes as Spock’s hand slid beneath his jacket, stroking over the thin fabric of his shirt in a slow movement that promised far more. No one had ever held him like Spock did, so gently and tenderly, as if there were fragility beneath all the bravado. Jim loved it; loved _him,_ and he was so glad that he could call him husband now in all respects.

Arousal simmered between them, growing with their lingering touches, and with his arms looped around Spock’s neck, Jim leant in for a slow, deep kiss. They came to a standstill as they kissed, Spock’s tongue stroking slowly over the seam of Jim’s lips as his hand threaded into Jim’s hair, and Jim couldn’t help but moan at the slick heat of it, drawing it into his mouth to suck on it.

‘Get a room!’

The call, predictably, came from Bones, who was mock-scowling at them when Jim pulled away, only slightly bleary-eyed.

‘You know what, Bonesy?’ Jim grinned, blood pounding with arousal. ‘I think we will. Ready to go, babe?’

‘Absolutely,’ Spock agreed, his voice low and thick with want.

Jim shivered at the sound of it, grinning at Bones, who was grimacing at them.

‘Thanks, Bones. We’ll see you soon.’

‘I don’t want any details,’ Bones snapped, and Jim laughed giddily, grabbing Spock’s hand and tugging him along behind him.

Desire ricocheted between them, and they received a few knowing looks as they all but ran towards their quarters, though luckily, most of the crew were staying down on the Starbase. Either way, Jim would have chosen to stay on the Enterprise that night; he wanted to consummate their marriage in the same place they had consummated the bond, in a place he felt familiar and safe. Usually, Spock avoided PDAs like the plague, but he was rather amorous that night, hand stroking and squeezing Jim’s own as they hurried towards their bedroom, desperate for one another.

They all but fell inside their quarters when they arrived, and Jim barely had the presence of mine to slam his hand down on the door release as Spock pinned him up against the wall, sucking fiercely at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Jim mewled pitifully, threading his hand into Spock’s hair as he ground up against him, hard already, and growing more excited at the feel of Spock’s thick erection pushing against his own. Fumbling, he reached down to grasp one of Spock’s hands, and lifted it to take two of his fingers into his mouth. Spock groaned as he sucked on them, and when he looked up at Jim from under full eyelashes, his pupils were blown erotically wide.

‘James,’ he said, voice low and rough with desire. ‘Adun.’

The word alone made Jim moan, the vibration against the twitching fingers in his mouth leaving Spock panting with desire, hips jerking wildly. Jim slung a leg around his waist, letting out a muffled cry as Spock hoisted him up against the wall, lifting him effortlessly with his free hand, and rutting into him at a pace that left him gasping.

‘E’tum-veh,’ Spock growled, latching onto his pulse point. _T’nash-veh._

Shuddering, Jim lapped sloppily at the fingers in his mouth, paying close attention to the sensitive pads as he realised how close Spock was, feeling how wet the front of his trousers had become.

 _Come for me, t’hy’la,_ he urged, eyes falling half closed at the wonderful friction of Spock’s desperate rutting. He flicked his tongue at the webbing between Spock’s fingers, and Spock cried his name, burying his face into Jim’s neck as he rocked through his climax. Jim let his fingers fall from his mouth, murmuring sweet nothings into his silky hair as he cradled his head, kissing his crown. He could feel Spock’s muscles trembling as he still supported Jim’s weight, so he gestured to be let down, ignoring his own need in favour of looking after Spock.

‘Let’s get these clothes off, sweetheart. Your pants must be uncomfortable.’

Spock did as requested, trembling fingers fumbling with his buttons until Jim took over, his erection pulsing as the familiar, beautiful body was revealed to him.

‘K’diwa,’ Spock breathed, reaching for Jim’s clothes as Jim’s fingers tangled in his soft chest hair.

They undressed one another with reverent hands, but desire quickened the pace considerably. Knowing that they were committed to one another in every way made Jim hopelessly aroused, and judging by Spock’s pretty flush, and the open, love-drunk bond, he felt the same way. Wiping away the come from Spock’s previous climax with his underwear, Jim reached for the waistband of his own boxers, only to find his hand stilled. He felt a heady jolt of excitement as Spock sank to his knees before him, gently moulding a hand over the outline of his straining cock.

‘You did not come before.’

‘It was a near thing, trust me,’ Jim said hoarsely, shuddering as Spock kitten-licked up his inner thigh. ‘You’re so beautiful when you come.’

‘I was beginning to think you didn’t want me,’ Spock murmured, teasing in his own subtle way.

Unashamedly, Jim all but tore off his underwear, wrapping a hand around his flushed, drooling cock and displaying it for Spock’s perusal.

‘See how hard I am for you, baby? See how wet?’

Spock whined, catching both of them by surprise. His cheeks darkened, and the bond buzzed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal that had Jim cupping his cheek, thumb stroking slowly over the length of his eyebrow.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. I love it when you let me hear you.’

‘Ashayam,’ Spock said, voice wobbling, and Jim’s chest ached. They were both overwhelmed with emotion, and he knew that sometimes Spock struggled to process it all. He made to drop to his knees beside him, but before he could, Spock leant in and took his erection into his mouth. Jim moaned low in his throat, threading his hands into Spock’s soft hair as Spock sucked him, gorgeous chocolate eyes meeting his from under lowered eyelashes.

‘Oh, baby, you’re so good,’ Jim said breathlessly, mewling at the feel of a cool, wet tongue dipping into the slit at the head. ‘ _Spock…_ Oh, love, please.’

He wasn’t quite sure what he was asking for, but Spock took him in deeper, pace quickening until Jim’s heart was hammering and heat flooded his body.

‘Spock, stop!’

He teetered on the edge as Spock immediately withdrew, fighting not to come. Eventually, with a shuddering breath, he judged himself as safe to breathe, and relaxed, stroking over Spock’s cheek.

‘I don’t want to come yet,’ he said softly, noticing that Spock was beginning to shift a little in discomfort on the floor. ‘C’mere, baby.’

He lifted Spock easily into his arms – he knew it aroused Spock that he could take his weight – and carried him over to the bed, laying him down carefully against the pillows. Spock looked up at him with desire-filled eyes, lips deliciously swollen, and Jim momentarily regretted his decision to ask him to stop. Kneeling between his legs, he froze in indecision, struggling to express his ideas about how he wanted the night to go. Spock’s expression softened from the sultry mask of arousal it had become, and he laced his fingers firmly with Jim’s own.

‘What do you want, my beloved? I assure you, it is highly likely that your desires match my own.’

‘But what if they don’t?’ Jim fretted, not wanting to pressure him. He wanted a lot of things, but right now, he wanted to make love to Spock, to push himself inside that tight heat and make Spock scream. Far more than that, though, he wanted Spock to feel free of obligation.

‘You wish to penetrate me,’ Spock said heatedly, and Jim flushed dark, realising that Spock had caught the thought through the bond. ‘Jim, there is nothing I want more. Come to me.’

He reached up, and Jim went willingly into his arms, shaking with emotion and arousal. He felt soft lips graze his temple, and turned into them, catching Spock in a desperate, needy kiss. Spock met him move for move, arching up against him, and Jim moaned when he felt the renewed erection stroke over his own.

‘I love you,’ he said raggedly, pulling back only to latch onto the tempting tip of Spock’s ear, sucking roughly.

Spock keened, tangling a hand into his hair, and throwing his head back as Jim’s lips met the hinge of his jaw.

‘I love you too,’ he panted, responding beautifully to the suckling kisses that Jim trailed down his neck. ‘Jim, please, I need you now. Do not tease.’

As Jim’s lips descended over his arching body, he scrabbled in the bedside drawer, and before Jim could reach his prize, he found a cool bottle pressed insistently into his hand. Spock was flushed and trembling, ardour spreading through the bond and inflaming them both.

‘Please, adun. I cannot wait, not tonight.’

The tension between them had grown until his words snapped something in Jim, who kissed him once, fiercely, before sliding down the bed and fumbling with the lube. He squirted it messily onto his fingers, looking up to Spock for permission as he stroked one over his hole, shivering in excitement.

 _‘Yes,’_ Spock said weakly, and he cried out as Jim gently pushed the finger in to the first knuckle.

Jim didn’t like to rush this, wanted to open him up with all the care he deserved to make sure that he wouldn’t get hurt when they made love, but Spock apparently had other ideas. He let out a needy whimper as Jim’s finger grazed his prostate, and he impaled himself on it with desperate enthusiasm, his little choked-off sounds of pleasure making Jim’s cock throb.

‘Another?’ Jim asked, and he sobbed out his agreement, showing no signs of discomfort as Jim carefully opened him up. His pretty cock was just as swollen as it had been before, drooling precome and twitching as his prostate was stimulated, and it wasn’t long before Jim couldn’t resist it anymore. He dragged his tongue from base to tip, then sucked the weeping head into his mouth, making obscene noises of enjoyment at the taste of the slick that filled his mouth and coated his chin. Spock wailed, hips flicking upwards in little abortive movements, and Jim gently slipped in another finger, transfixed by Spock’s wanton reactions.

 _That’s it, baby,_ he murmured, low and sweet, as he rubbed softly over his prostate, eliciting a cry. He took his cock a little deeper into his mouth, tongue teasing at his frenulum, and Spock’s resolve seemed to break.

‘Jim!’ he choked, tugging frantically at his hair. ‘Jim, enough.’

Jim obeyed, gently withdrawing his fingers as he rose up Spock’s body, laying a sweet kiss against his lips.

‘You okay?’

Spock’s chest was heaving, and he nodded breathlessly, a soft green flush running from the tips of his ears to the swell of his chest. The ache of Jim’s erection was becoming painful.

‘Yes, t’hy’la. Please, Jim, I want you.’

‘All right, sweetheart,’ Jim said softly, looping an arm under his knee and pulling it up. He shifted until the head of his cock was pressing against Spock’s hole, shaking with need. ‘You sure?’

In response, Spock pulled him down into a passionate kiss, bearing down against him. Jim broke the kiss with a throaty moan at the exquisite tightness, rocking his hips in and out, opening him up with infinite care. There was discomfort tangible in Spock, but not enough for him to agree to stop, the furrow in his brow smoothing out with a sigh as Jim bottomed out. His hair was in beautiful disarray against the pillows, and Jim reached up to smooth it back as they kissed lazily, hips twitching despite the interlude.

‘I’m so glad I married you,’ Jim blurted, loving the way Spock’s eyes softened.

‘And I you, k’diwa,’ he purred, back arching and a gasp escaping as Jim carefully rocked forward. _‘James.’_

‘You ready, honey?’ Jim asked, moaning as Spock clenched around him with a tiny, smug smile. When he next spoke, his voice was strained. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

He took up a gentle rhythm, conscious of Spock’s faint discomfort despite his own blinding pleasure, seeking out his prostate with single-minded determination. He knew he had found it when Spock arched up beneath him, back bowing beautifully as he moaned, mouth falling open in a ‘o’ of pleasure.

‘There, sweetie?’ Jim asked, letting out a breathless laugh of delight as Spock began to meet him thrust for thrust, chasing his pleasure. The laughter ended abruptly as Spock clenched around him, and Jim whimpered, lowering himself down until they lay chest to chest. The frenzied passion evaporated as he met Spock’s eyes, and Jim leant down for a lingering kiss, loving that he could feel the rumble of Spock’s pleasure in his chest as he moved slow and deep. One of Spock’s hands threaded into his hair, the other clutching at his scapula as they rocked into one another, Jim’s teeth nipping gently at Spock’s lower lip as he drew away to breathe.

Spock was trembling, green-cheeked and green-eared, and when Jim wrapped his fingers around his dripping cock, he sobbed out his name. Jim knew he was close, and felt his own climax approach, pleasure winding tight in his belly as Spock mewled in ecstasy. When a hand slid from his shoulder to rest tentatively against his cheek, Jim kissed the heel of it hard, panting out his agreement.

‘Yeah, ashaya, take what you need.’

Despite the way his hand shook, Spock’s fingers met Jim’s meld points with almost magnetic precision, the traditional words spoken breathlessly.

‘My mind to your mind.’

‘My thoughts to your thoughts,’ Jim continued, his mind seizing with pleasure as they fell together, the bond shining bright and golden. Spock’s mind sought his with dizzying speed, an eroticism in the way they moved and flowed into one another, the building ecstasy between their bodies shared and thus doubled. Jim felt safe here; Jim felt _loved,_ and knew that Spock felt the same, their pleasure heightened by the emotion that could not be hidden here, pure and true.

 _T’hy’la,_ he heard, the word thick with love, and then awareness of the physical plane returned with a bolt of ecstasy up his spine. Jim could feel himself inside Spock, balls drawing up as he drove into his tight warmth, but he could also feel himself being filled, a steady, rhythmic pressure against his prostate, and a warm hand stroking him with just the right grip and speed. Spock was keening, eyes fixing upon Jim’s with tangible desperation, beautiful in his mounting pleasure. It didn’t take much; Jim tightened his grip, thumbing over Spock’s frenulum as he drove unerringly into his prostate, and the bond ignited.

_‘Jim!’_

A cry tore from Spock’s throat with such intensity it was almost a scream, his cock pulsing thickly over Jim’s hand as ecstasy burned through the bond. The echo of his pleasure alone could have made Jim come undone, but it was the sight of him that nearly tipped him over the edge, his back arching beautifully, and his face contorted in pleasure. Jim moaned in response, feeling heat gather in his belly as Spock clenched around him, his rhythm beginning to fall apart.

‘Ashayam,’ Spock breathed, eyes soft and satisfied in the wake of orgasm. ‘You have done so well. Come for me.’

It was an order that Jim couldn’t help but follow. Spock’s hand slid down his back to gently squeeze his balls, and Jim’s breath stuttered, his mouth running away with him.

‘God, baby, that feels so good. You feel so good. I love you so much, sweetheart, you’re so amazing. F-fuck, Spock, I’m- _Spock!’_

He buried his face in Spock’s neck as he came, pleasure making him tremble as he pushed once, twice, three more times into Spock’s pliant body, and collapsed into his arms. He lay there for maybe a minute or so, feeling a hazy warmth as Spock stroked his hair, combing long fingers delicately through the length of it.

‘I love you too, my Jim,’ he heard, the sound rumbling through Spock’s chest and into his ear. The hand in his hair migrated to his face, and Jim turned into it, drawing him into a deep, lingering kiss that made his toes curl. He wasn’t surprised to feel the slow burn of desire once more, though he wasn’t sure if its origin was himself, Spock, or both. Either way, it didn’t matter; Jim knew he was loved and wanted as much as he loved and wanted Spock, and despite his nerves, he wanted to overcome his final, lingering fear.

When he pulled back, Spock was watching him intently, evidently having picked up on his conflicting emotions.

‘Jim?’ he prompted softly, stroking the hair back from his face. ‘What is wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Jim replied, meaning it in spite of his fluttering stomach. ‘I… I’d like to try something.’

Spock nodded, eyes never leaving his as he took Jim’s face between his hands.

‘There is no shame between us, t’hy’la.’

Jim nodded jerkily back, his heart thumping as he rearranged himself so that he was straddling Spock’s waist, awkwardly arranging himself into an unfamiliar position. That Spock’s hands settled on his hips without comment was comforting beyond belief, supporting him in more ways than one.

‘I want you inside me,’ he said shakily, determined to fight his own anxieties before they dictated his sex life permanently.

Spock soothed a hand over his waist and hip, his expression carefully contained despite the maelstrom of love, protectiveness and excitement in the bond.

‘Beloved, I do not expect you to push yourself if you do not feel comfortable.’

Jim shook his head, excitement warring with nerves as he ground gently down into Spock’s lap, making both of them gasp.

‘I know you don’t, but I want to try,’ Jim said breathlessly. ‘I don’t want those bastards to take anything more from me. Please, Spock, I want you.’

Spock’s eyes met his with an intensity that made him shiver; he felt a little like the subject of one of his experiments, so closely watched.

‘If you are certain,’ he said cautiously, and Jim nodded, a tremulous smile curving his lips.

‘I promise I’ll say something if it gets too much.’

‘I will stop if so.’ Spock’s fingers laced with his, and he lay so pliantly beneath Jim that Jim felt in control despite his submission. ‘How would you like to proceed?’

The ghost of a smile flickered across Jim’s face at the formality, before he rocked gently down into Spock’s lap again, lips parting at the sensation. Spock’s eyes were dark and gorgeous with arousal, his captured hand twitching in Jim’s as Jim tested the waters.

‘Like this?’ Jim asked, shifting back to allow Spock to sit up against the headboard. He settled back into his lap, relaxing into the strong hands that soothed over his back.

‘Yes, taluhk-veh,’ Spock murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against his lips. ‘Like this.’

Jim couldn’t resist drawing him into a deeper kiss, sliding a hand up into his hair and tugging carefully in a way that made Spock mewl into his mouth, the sound sending a shiver of excitement down Jim’s spine. He took Spock’s lower lip between his own, sucking until he felt a groan rumble through Spock’s chest, then surrendered as Spock broke away, licking into his mouth with a cool tongue that knew exactly where to touch him. He drew a sharp breath in through his nose as Spock’s tongue teased over his palate, drawing a finger up and over the soft point of his ear, and cried out as Spock drew away abruptly, only to latch onto his pulse point.

‘Baby,’ he said breathlessly, tilting his head back as Spock kissed and licked his way down his neck towards his chest, shuddering as his tongue teased over a pebbled nipple. ‘Spock, _oh!’_

He arched into the soft, wet mouth that sealed over it, sucking softly, and mewled Spock’s name, smearing precome over his stomach as he bucked into him. Spock knew exactly what he liked, knew exactly how to curl his tongue and worry gently with teeth until Jim was driven to distraction, gasping for breath as his hand fisted in Spock’s fine hair.

‘Honey, please,’ he begged, scrabbling behind him for the lube as Spock blew cool air over a swollen, sensitive nipple. ‘I-I need you.’

He pressed the lube insistently into Spock’s hand as Spock sucked a love bite into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, making him squirm with arousal.

_You shall have me, adun._

Spock broke away with a sweep of the flat of his tongue, skimming a hand protectively over Jim’s hip as he flipped the cap of the lube open.

‘Have you done this previously, beloved?’ he asked, then baulked at his own question, guilt and self-loathing trickling through their connection. ‘I… Jim, I-’

‘It’s okay,’ Jim said softly, cradling his cheek. ‘But, no. Not since I was forced anyway. I’ve used my fingers sometimes, though.’

Spock’s eyes were wide and dark with far more pain than desire, and Jim didn’t like it. He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss against his lips, taking the lube and pouring it out onto his fingers, before abandoning the bottle on the bedside table.

‘Sweetie, it’s okay. I want… I need you to show me that it can be good. Something I don’t have to be afraid of. Can you do that for me?’

‘Yes, my t’hy’la,’ Spock said tenderly, drawing him into a sweet, soft kiss, before pulling back to rest their foreheads together.

Spock’s hands were reverent as they moved to hold him once more, one sliding across to his shoulder blade, the other down to his lower back, smoothing slowly over the base of his spine. Jim whimpered as Spock drew his knees up to cradle his body, circling a slippery finger around his hole.

‘I need your permission, James.’

Jim blinked away tears as he nodded rapidly, voicing his consent when that yielded nothing.

‘Yes. God, Spock, _yes.’_

His voice broke as Spock gently worked his finger inside him, just the tip at first, then all the way up when he found little resistance. Jim gasped into his mouth, tasting his breath, as one careful push reached his prostate, white-hot pleasure flashing up his spine. He’d never come that way before, despite his own explorations, never having been able to find the right angle while his nerve lasted. The intensity of it made him tremble, moaning into Spock’s mouth at each gentle, teasing swipe, and pushing down against the second finger that stroked over his entrance.

‘Patience,’ Spock soothed, kissing him sweetly. ‘I am not going anywhere.’

Jim whined in frustration as he was teased a little more, but then Spock obliged him, slipping a second finger in beside the first. The stretch was slightly uncomfortable, but Jim eased past that feeling fairly quickly, mewling as one of Spock’s scissoring fingers happened upon his prostate again.

‘There, ashal-veh?’

 _‘Yes,’_ Jim choked, pulling a sharp breath in through his nose as Spock gently opened him up. The slow, smooth glide of his fingers was interrupted only by the way Jim’s hips jerked at every pass over his prostate, incoherent sounds of pleasure escaping him. With permission, another finger joined the two inside him, and Jim buried his face in Spock’s shoulder, barely hearing Spock’s soft Vulcan crooning as he tensed in discomfort, struggling to relax.

‘Jim, do you want me to stop?’

‘No, please, just wait a second.’

He knew it was the love of his life inside him, but it took a little longer to convince his body of that fact, trying not to tense up. He shifted back to see Spock’s face, and found himself being watched with dark, loving eyes, so unlike the violent lust he’d seen in those who had raped him that it brought tears to his own. He knew he was safe with Spock.

‘I’m okay,’ he said shakily, nodding when Spock looked at him with doubt. ‘I promise. Please, love.’

He rolled his hips, breath catching as he adjusted to the fullness inside him, and when he asked, Spock started stretching him once more, patient and gentle. Those clever fingers found his prostate with ease, and before long, Jim was panting and moaning, rocking back into Spock’s hand. Pleasure burned in his belly, climbing towards a peak so intense that only the desperation in Spock’s expression was enough for him to stop.

‘I’m ready, hon,’ he murmured, a whimper catching in his throat as Spock withdrew his fingers.

‘Are you certain, t’hy’la?’ Spock asked softly, stroking over his hip.

Jim nodded, squirming impatiently when Spock did not move, an eyebrow quirking.

_Out loud, James._

‘Yes,’ he said, voice cracking. His hands were shaking, and Spock brought one to his mouth for a kiss, attempting to calm him through the bond. ‘Please, Spock, I need you.’

‘Would you like me to use protection, t’hy’la?’

Jim shook his head, reaching for the lube, and revelling in the gasp that escaped Spock as he slicked his erection.

‘I want to feel you. Please.’

His final word became a sob, and he tried in vain to quell the shaking, worried that Spock would think he didn’t want him.

‘I know, beloved,’ Spock said softly, guiding him up into position. ‘It is overwhelming for you. I will stop at any point you wish to do so.’

Jim pulled him into a chaste, sweet kiss, so grateful for his wonderful husband and the patience he showed. Shifting forward, his breath caught as the tip of Spock’s erection pressed up against him, and with aching slowness, he bore down against it. There was some discomfort, but Spock allowed him to take his time, laying a hand against his lower back as he pushed down in shallow little movements, heart fluttering and breath hitching. The panic that threatened to swell was alleviated by the sweep of Spock’s pleasure across the bond, and Jim was fixated by the arousal in his dark eyes, and his pink lips that parted on a gasp at every shift of his hips. They breathed in one another’s air as Spock finally bottomed out, Jim’s eyes falling closed as Spock’s nose nuzzled his affectionately.

‘Are you well, Jim?’

‘Yeah,’ Jim breathed, opening his eyes to meet Spock’s as a tiny, triumphant smile tugged at his lips. ‘Yeah, I’m good. You can move.’

For a moment, Spock looked unconvinced, but then Jim clenched around him, and pleasure spilled into his expression, his hips jerking. Jim felt white-hot, still on a knife-edge despite the slow, gentle pace Spock was setting, and he buried his face in Spock’s neck, mewling as a hand snaked between them.

‘Let go, e’tum-veh,’ Spock murmured heatedly, a soft moan escaping him as he worked Jim’s cock. ‘I have you.’

Jim spilled between them with a sob, his release burning through him and leaving him shaking, broken little moans pouring from his lips. Spock held him, gently fucking him through it, but when his pace slowed, Jim protested.

‘Don’t stop,’ he begged, little aftershocks jerking him as Spock hit his prostate. ‘Want you to come.’

‘Is it not too sensitive?’ Spock questioned, strain in his voice. He cupped Jim’s soft cock, drawing a high-pitched whine from Jim’s throat as he gently stroked it.

‘Don’t think I can come again.’

‘I can help you,’ Spock said lowly, smoothing a hand up his sweat-slick back. ‘Do I have your permission, adun?’

‘Yes,’ Jim panted, leaning into the hand that rose to caress his cheek. ‘Yeah, honey, please.’

Spock kissed him sweetly, and Jim moaned into it as he felt desire run through him once more, his cock hardening within Spock’s perfect grip. His legs were trembling with exertion, and with his shaky acquiescence, Spock rolled them over, the new angle tearing a gasp from Jim’s throat.

‘That’s good. That’s so _good,_ Spock.’

‘Yes,’ Spock growled, desperation in his eyes as Jim felt the echo of his mounting pleasure coil in his own belly. ‘K’hat'n'dlawa, telsu t’nash-veh.’

Jim whimpered, arching into him as he moved slow and deep, sucking a mark into the base of his neck. Heat spread through his body, already thick in the air between them, and his slick hands scrabbled for purchase on Spock’s shoulders.

‘Spock,’ he begged, entranced and aroused by the naked love in his expression. _‘Spock.’_

‘T’hy’la,’ Spock purred, tugging at his cock in just the right way. ‘James, come for me.’

He flicked his thumb over Jim’s frenulum just the way he liked it, and Jim fell apart, wailing Spock’s name as his cock jerked in a dry orgasm, the intensity making his vision blur. Spock was moaning between heavy breaths, and when Jim could see straight again, he slid a hand up to tug at his hair just the way he liked it, feeling a final, soft pulse of arousal at his cry of pleasure.

‘Jim,’ Spock moaned, voice ragged with want. _‘Jim.’_

‘I know, darling. Feels good, huh?’ Jim clenched around him despite his oversensitivity, finding it was worth the discomfort for the way Spock whimpered. 'You’ve done so well, Spock, taking care of me. It’s your turn now, sweetheart. I want to feel you come inside me.’

Spock watched him with desperate, hungry eyes, his hips snapping urgently forwards a few more times before his face contorted with pleasure, and he cried out hoarsely -

‘Jim!’

The bond ignited in a wave of ecstasy that stole Jim’s breath anew as Spock came inside him, collapsing back against the headboard, and drawing Jim into his arms.

‘T’hy’la, t’nash-veh,’ he murmured, voice rough from either lingering passion or his cries - Jim didn’t know. ‘Adun t’nash-veh, e’tum-veh.’

Jim let the sweet words wash over him, exhausted in the aftermath of their lovemaking. When Spock gently pulled out, he slumped against Spock’s chest, proud as well as sated, disturbed only by the uncomfortable sensation of semen slipping down between his legs. As he shifted awkwardly, a twinge pulling at his lower back, Spock brushed a kiss against his forehead.

‘You have done so well, my love. I will be only a moment.’

Jim didn’t resist as Spock laid him down against the pillows, eyes barely open, and when Spock returned, he pulled his knees up without prompting, wincing at the slight sting as Spock gently cleaned him off.

‘Apologies, ashayam,’ Spock murmured, disposing of the cloth. ‘I hope you are more comfortable now.’

‘Much, thanks,’ Jim said blearily, reaching for him. ‘I’ll be more comfy when you come to bed, though.’

When Spock slid into bed beside him, he sighed in relief, reaching blindly for his cheek to pull him down for a series of soft, sweet kisses. Their mouths moved slowly together, passion replaced by tenderness, and Jim felt secure in the knowledge that Spock loved him more than anything else in the universe.

‘Love you,’ he murmured, letting his eyes fall closed as Spock shifted him so that he lay against his chest. He curled into Spock’s warmth, exhausted, and felt a kiss ghosted against his forehead.

‘I love you too, Jim. Sleep now.’

Morning came with a brightness entirely unrelated to the artificial light raised inside their cabin. Jim woke to find himself lying securely in Spock’s warm arms, their bodies tangled together in a mess of blankets, the bond stirring along with Spock. Everything would have been perfect, had Jim not come to the realisation that he was drooling on his new husband’s shoulder. Embarrassed, he wiped off his mouth, then Spock’s shoulder, only to find Spock looking down at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes sleepy, but trained on him.

‘Sorry,’ he flushed, receiving a kiss for his troubles.

‘I do not mind, t’hy’la,’ Spock murmured, when he pulled back. He nuzzled Jim’s nose with his own, a barely-there smile gracing his face. ‘You were not aware.’

When they parted, his eye seemed caught by something behind Jim, and he reached over to take hold of his padd, which was flashing in the corner.

‘My father would like to speak to us at some point today,’ he frowned, scanning the message rapidly. ‘He says it is not urgent, but time-sensitive.’

‘Wonder what that’s about?’ Jim mused, squeaking as Spock pulled him into his lap, eyes bright with mischief.

‘Whatever it is, it can wait until we have cleaned up. Would you like to take a shower with me, adun?’

‘Do you even need to ask?’ Jim laughed, though he sobered quickly. There was a definite wobble to his voice when he next spoke. ‘Thank you for marrying me.’

Spock’s expression grew even softer than it already was, and he reached up to cradle Jim’s face between his hands.

‘It is my honour to be your husband, and your bondmate. Thank _you,_ Jim.’

They shared a sweet, lingering kiss, before Jim pulled away with a sigh, unable to repress a giddy smile even if he had wanted to. He reluctantly slid from Spock’s lap, holding his hand out for his husband to take.

‘Come on, then. We’d better look presentable to your dad.’

After a much longer shower than expected, they sat down together in front of Jim’s desk, waiting for the call to connect to Sarek. It didn’t take long, and when Sarek appeared onscreen, a brightness flitted across his expression. Not for the first time, Jim wondered if he was lonely now that Amanda was gone.

‘Greetings, my sons. I hope you have slept well.’

_Scandalous._

_James, that is not what he is implying._

‘We did, thank you,’ Jim chirped innocently, nudging Spock. ‘We hope you did too. You said you have something to tell us?’

Sarek nodded, eyes narrowing in thought as he paused before speaking.

‘Two days ago, I was contacted by another member of the High Council, whose grandson has recently become the guardian of a week-old infant. It was made abundantly clear that this guardianship is a temporary arrangement, and to be ended as soon as possible. The mother of the child was a member of their clan, but they do not wish to care for her, and similar assertions have been made by all other families that have been approached.’

‘Why?’ Jim asked, frowning. He felt indignant on behalf of this little girl, despite never having met her. ‘Why would so many people reject her?’

‘She is a hybrid,’ Sarek explained, and through his surprise, Jim felt intrigue bubble up in Spock. ‘Half-Vulcan… half-Romulan.’

Jim blinked, but quickly recovered himself.

‘So? She isn’t responsible for what Nero did because of her heritage. She’s just a baby.’

‘I agree,’ Spock added, the intrigue becoming something rather more protective. ‘Though I cannot imagine that many on New Vulcan would.’

Sarek inclined his head, a troubled shade to his otherwise blank expression.

‘You are correct. Now that her mother is deceased, and her relatives wish to relinquish the child, I have agreed to take her in. There is room in my home should she need to stay permanently, however…’

He eyed Spock with an intensity that Jim could not identify, but Spock apparently could, judging by the way he stiffened in his seat.

‘Your peers were cruel to you. It is my greatest regret that I allowed their behaviour to go unchecked and unpunished. And while our depleted numbers are forcing even the most xenophobic to interact with members of other species, I cannot imagine that she would be accepted.’

‘She would not be,’ Spock said roughly, sorrow colouring the bond. Jim attempted to comfort him, but he shared Spock’s worry for the fate of the little girl if she remained on New Vulcan. ‘And she cannot go to the Romulans.’

‘Naturally,’ Sarek agreed, leaning forward in his chair. ‘One option I have is to contact Children’s Services on Terra.’

‘What, so she can get bounced around foster homes where no one understands her?’ Jim asked, distress ringing in his voice. _Spock, I know it’s sooner than expected, but…_

Spock’s hand captured his, their fingers lacing together.

_I will not allow her to suffer as I did._

‘Which is why I am contacting you. I know that you both wish to become parents, and as a child of two worlds, Spock, I know that you would understand her needs better than most. This is not a decision that I am asking you to make today. Naturally, if you would like her to be your child, you will have to be assessed in some capacity, but I cannot see why you would not be approved. There is, however, no pressure on you. If you do not wish to parent her, then that decision will be accepted.’

‘But _then_ where will she go?’ Jim asked rhetorically. He looked to Spock, finding a spark of hope in his eyes that matched the one in his heart, and he couldn’t help but smile, just a little. ‘What’s her name, Sarek?’

‘Her name is Saavik.’

‘Saavik.’ Jim tested it out, his tongue curling lovingly around the word. ‘That’s cute.’

‘Little cat,’ Spock said softly, earning a sideways look from Jim. ‘That is its meaning.’

There was an irrepressible giddiness in Jim, his chest feeling light and airy, and he smiled with burgeoning excitement.

‘Can we see her? Do you have a holo?’

‘I will send you one,’ Sarek replied, reaching out of the bounds of the screen for a padd. ‘I would like to contact you in two days once I have received the child. Then, if you are agreeable, you will be able to see her in motion.’

‘That would be acceptable,’ Spock nodded, as Jim grinned his approval. ‘Live long and prosper, sa-mekh.’

‘Peace and long life, sa-fu. And congratulations to you both.’

The picture winked out, and a few moments later, Spock’s padd dinged with a message notification.

‘I bet that’s her,’ Jim said excitedly, cuddling up close to Spock. ‘Let’s see, then.’

He felt anticipation build in Spock too as he sought the correct file, and when the holo loaded, they both made a sound of appreciation. There, curled up asleep in a swaddling blanket, her thick, dark hair just like Spock’s, was Saavik. She was tiny. Her mouth was a little rosebud, and her tiny ears curved upwards into gentle points, their size slightly disproportionate to the rest of her. Jim wished he’d asked what colour her eyes were, but he suspected that they would be dark like Spock’s. Maybe – _hopefully_ – their little girl.

Overcome, he traced over the holo with his finger, leaning into the lips that brushed against his forehead. Spock’s gentle warmth was rapidly becoming a deeper sort of affection - stronger, and more protective - as they stared at the holo, silently taking in her perfect features.

As usual, Jim was the first to break the silence.

‘Spock, she’s beautiful,’ he said softly, wishing they could hold her. ‘How could anyone not want her?’

‘I do not know,’ Spock replied, taking the padd from him with no small amount of reverence, and flicking the holo up into a 3D picture. ‘I feel somewhat attached to her already.’

Jim had fallen in love with her himself. Despite knowing that they were not guaranteed to be able to have her, he couldn’t help but imagine Saavik with them, a growing ache in his chest as he looked at her.

‘That’s our baby, Spock. That could be our baby.’

‘Indeed,’ Spock commented, voice hushed and unusually tremulous. He had not taken his eyes from her since the holo had arrived, and Jim could feel as much as see how strong his affection had become. ‘I… I have no objection to applying to adopt her.’

‘Really?’ Jim asked, choking on tears when he nodded. ‘Me too… I mean, me neither. I can’t wait ‘til your dad rings us back.’

‘Nor can I,’ Spock said softly, a tiny smile curving his lips. Jim couldn’t help but be enamoured at the sight of it, his own smile growing as he leant in to kiss it from his lips, a hand sliding up to tangle gently in his hair.

They parted with laboured breath, Jim’s forehead meeting Spock’s as they breathed one another in, contentment the presiding feeling between them.

‘We’re going to be okay, Spock. We’re going to be amazing.’

\-------------------------

Having used the few weeks of peace wisely, it felt like no time before they were back on their girl again, ready to begin exploring once more. They had a few milk runs to make, but Jim wasn’t complaining. After all, it was the price they paid for being able to pick up their little girl in two weeks' time. Jim was so excited, he could barely breathe when he thought about her, wanting so badly to be able to hold their baby in his arms. Sitting in his Chair, watching his crew – his family – settle into their stations, he felt such a strong sense of home. There was familiarity in every movement now; in the way Sulu and Chekov bickered good-naturedly at the helm; in the way Uhura’s fingers danced over her console; in the way Spock, as always, was at his side.

Smiling up at his First in every sense, he was overjoyed at the light dusting of green over his cheeks, and the shy quirk of his lips, unnoticed by all but the two of them. Jim still struggled to believe that he could be so happy, in amongst his favourite people on his favourite ship, and married to the love of his life. No matter what had come before, this was a dream come true.

‘Onwards and upwards, Mister Spock.’

He caught Uhura’s eye at her station, who grinned, while Spock stared at him, appearing nonplussed.

‘Our trajectory is not always…’ he trailed off at Jim’s arched eyebrow, mischief flitting across the bond. ‘Ah. One of your human expressions, Captain?’

‘Indeed,’ Jim teased, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. _As if you don’t know what that means._

Spock didn’t respond, but there was a flash of humour over the bond, lightning-fast. As their departure neared, a hush fell over the Bridge, silent apart from the hum of machinery and quiet debate between Chekov and Sulu at the helm. As always, Spock was beside Jim ‘til the last moment, hands folded neatly behind his back. They exchanged a long, loaded glance, warmth rolling across the bond like a summer storm, and Spock’s eyes softened in affection that lit Jim up on the inside.

_Are you all right, t’hy’la?_

Jim looked out into the vast expanse of space, out at the millions of tiny pinpricks of light that were the stars that he loved, and felt that they weren’t untouchable any more. He smiled.

‘I will be.’

\------------------

 

 

Out of the night that covers me, 

      Black as the pit from pole to pole, 

I thank whatever gods may be 

      For my unconquerable soul. 

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 

      My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 

      Looms but the Horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 

      Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

      How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate, 

      I am the captain of my soul. 

 

Invictus - William Ernest Henry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I almost can't believe I've come to the end of this story. I've enjoyed writing it so much, and I hope you have all enjoyed reading it! I appreciate all of you, but especially those who have stuck with me throughout everything going on in my personal life, encouraging me to keep going. I have so much planned for the future, but my immediate focus will be a little oneshot from this universe - not sure exactly how long it'll take me to write, but I'm looking at the next month or so. After that, I'll be taking a break of (maybe) a few months, before I start on my next Trek fic- most of which I already have planned out.
> 
> Anyway, all that aside, I really, really hope you guys like what you've read, and if you have, please leave me a comment below. I'd also appreciate if those of you on tumblr could reblog my fic posts: [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/post/172185472596/captain-of-his-soul-chapter-2525-it-will) and [here](http://pastmydancingdays.tumblr.com/post/172185682766/captain-of-his-soul-aos-jimspock). Thank you so much for all your support, guys. I couldn't have done it without you <3


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